


Fugitive

by AxlotlAtHeart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A couple random minor ocs here and there, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Freeform, Bonding, Don't copy to another site, Driving, F/M, Homelessness, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, On the Run, Poor Sansa, Poor Theon, Psychic Abilities, Slow Build, Theonsa is the softest ship in any universe, i love fluffy angst and angsty fluff and you can't stop me, it's a really weird au just go with it trust me, kind of stranger things inspired?, like a hella lot of driving, secret government agencies, theon and sansa eventually become a power couple, theon's life is constantly shitty, very very AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxlotlAtHeart/pseuds/AxlotlAtHeart
Summary: Since he was fourteen, Theon has been little more than a prisoner of the Lab, and of the Manager who runs it. A thing to be tested, to be experimented on for their own uses. After spending half his life in chains, he manages to escape. But his connection with the outside world is severely fractured, and those who run the Lab are looking for him. He knows he will not get far without help, but would never dream of bringing another into the danger he feels he has brought upon himself...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an odd, very specific AU that I've had on my mind for a while, but always thought was too dumb to write. But now I'm gonna do it, partly due to the fact that I'm still too sad to think about Theon in the context of the canon universe, and also to the surprising amount of encouragement I got from Tumblr when I mentioned wanting to do this. Thanks guy! Hope you enjoy, and I hope this turns out better than my last multi chapter attempt...

_The metal door slammed shut, plunging Theon into darkness once again. He fell painfully to his knees, hands slick from the blood still running down his face.  For a long, long moment he sat listening to the steady drip of his own blood and shaky breaths; the only sounds in the tiny room._

_They had not been kind to him today. The bird test; they knew he hated the bird test, knew he couldn’t stand to hurt anything…but his preferences meant nothing to them, of course._

_Slowly, shakily, he pulled himself up from the floor, wiped away the blood from his nose and dragged himself onto the narrow cot in the corner of the room, every bone in his body still aching from the strain of the tests._

_They were not easy._

_They had never been easy. But he had given them something today, at least. Something they wanted very badly. With a sick feeling he remembered how the bird had twitched, and how it had finally gone still…_

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the darkness, unsure if it was the bird he was speaking to or the Managers, for letting them down so many times before now._

_Maybe tomorrow he would be allowed to rest._

_As he struggled to let his brain shut off, to finally sleep, he felt the mark on his shoulder twinge painfully along with the other aches and pains. He had always hated that thing. Just another reminder of what he was. And where he was. And what they would make him into._

                                                                                                *

His breath came in short gasps.

More than once he had already stumbled and fallen – the unevenness of the ground unfamiliar to his feet – but still he ran. If he stopped running, even for a moment, he would be found. And he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ let that happen. Not when he was finally so close.

_Run,_ he thought, _keep going._

 Around him, the tall, dark spires of trees rose up into the night sky. If he hadn’t been running for his life he might have stopped to marvel at the sight of it. How long had it been since he had set foot outside? Since he had seen trees, or the open sky? In the years he had spent confined to those white halls and sharp corners, he had almost forgotten what the world looked like.

The next time he stumbled, crashing noisily into a pile of dead branches, he allowed himself to pause. He leaned against a tree, icy sweat running down his face. At the same time he shook from both cold and exertion. And then there was the trail of blood, running from his nose all down his face. He hastily wiped it away on his shirt sleeve. That he was used to, but to this level of exhaustion he was not, except maybe from some of the most difficult tests, the ones that had left him weak and shaking on the floor of his cell. But now, this was a different kind of tiredness. His legs burned and trembled beneath him, so badly he worried they would give out. It had been so long since he’d ran; really ran like that. He remembered – was too exhausted to force the memory away – the feeling long ago of his feet pounding against dry grass, asphalt. In the background of his mind he saw the walls of a school building…if he let himself think hard enough he could remember his teacher’s face…

But out of nowhere the face he almost conjured turned into The Manager, and he shuddered deeply, shook the image from his mind. It wouldn’t leave though; it hung there and taunted him, making him think of all the things that would be done to him if he was found out, if they caught him…the tests…the tests would get so much worse…

Theon dug his nails sharply into the bloody mess of his palms, pulling him back to the present. The cold air, the sweat from his hands made the gouges even more painful. He’d tried to be careful when climbing the fence, placing his hands between the metal barbs, but they’d gotten severely scratched despite his efforts. At the time he had barely felt it.

Now he stared down at them, silently willing the tremors that ran through them to still, trying in vain to slow his breathing. He needed to focus. If he kept going with no plan, no direction, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t just end up back where he started. The thought of that; of accidentally throwing himself right back into their arms, almost made his heart stop. Not now. _Not now._

A dull crack sounded through the woods behind him, and he jumped so badly he nearly fell over again. Quickly he threw himself behind the tree. His heart seemed to have risen to the base of his neck – if they’d found him…

Seconds dragged by, turning into minutes. Theon didn’t move, didn’t make a single sound but feared his heart would beat loudly enough for them to hear it if they were there.

_Please, please don’t be them,_ he thought, _please be nothing._

More minutes passed, and he heard nothing else. Saw no blue brightness of their flashlights. Slowly, very slowly, he peered back around the trunk to the darkness beyond.

Nothing.

Only an animal, perhaps, or a fallen branch. Still shaking, he stumbled from his hiding place, once again trying to catch his breath. Before he even realized what was happening, he felt a burning in his throat and behind his eyes; he was crying before he could stop himself.  Quickly he bit down on the back of his hand, muffling the noise as he was wracked with silent sobs. He didn’t know if they came from relief or terror.

_Stupid,_ he thought. There couldn’t be tears, not now. Not when he needed his wits.

After a long moment he straightened, forcing back the painful lump in his throat. He had to keep going.

But which way? Only now he began to realize how rash his plan had been, how poorly thought out. He had never come this way before. He didn’t even know where the woods ended – _if_  they ended – or what lay beyond them. He remembered a road…that long road and the long ride in the back of that car, and _please, where are you taking me? Where are we going?_

_Don’t_ , he told himself. _Don’t think of that._

But the road…if he could get there, if he could follow it far enough…

He could go home.

No. Theon shook that thought away before it could even fully form. He couldn’t go to what he had thought was his home. That place wasn’t safe anymore. Not for him.

But still, the road could be his only chance. Follow it far enough and it would take him somewhere, surely. And then…what? What did he do once he was truly, completely away from this place? How would he live?

It didn’t matter. He was out, that was all that counted.

Theon took a deep breath and kept walking.

He walked for a very long time. His footsteps grew heavier the more tired he got, so much so that he feared the crack of twigs and pine needles beneath his feet would be enough to alert any searchers of his presence. Sometimes he ran, though his brief spurts of energy were dwindling as the adrenaline began to fade. His lungs and legs burned almost constantly, and he shivered in his thin shirt as the night air grew colder. He wanted nothing more than to stop, to rest, to fall asleep right there on the ground, but knew that was impossible. Even if he wasn’t caught the cold would surely kill him.

So he kept on, forcing himself along step by step.

_One more,_ he told himself, _just one more step. One more step._

One more.

Again.

And again. And again.

And eventually, when his legs felt like they were about to crumple beneath him and the cold air seared his lungs with every breath, the ground beneath his feet changed. No more sticks. No more pine needles. Asphalt.

The road.

Somehow, inexplicably, he had made it.

Far off in one direction, down the long slope of a hill and nestled along the horizon, he could make out the lights of a town – that was right, wasn’t it? Yes, a town. Not his town…that was much too far away…but a town all the same.

He couldn’t walk anymore. He felt like he might never walk again. But there was the town, and here was the road. So he had to make it, just a little further.

Theon glanced behind him, to the mass of trees from where he had come. There were no lights. No visible sharp corners or barbed wire fences. That place was truly gone. Or rather, he was gone from it.

Dizzy with sheer relief as well as fatigue, he staggered forward, in the direction of the lights.

One foot in front of the other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's #2! I have a weakness for strangers randomly being helpful so here you go.

_He was fourteen when they took him. He remembered vividly the long ride in that black, unmarked car, so far away from home along a road that winded so much he lost direction within minutes._

_“Where are you taking me?” he had asked them, again and again, begging to know what was happening. There was never any response._

_They had come to his house after school. Hadn’t explained anything to him. They had only told him they were taking him to a new place, that he would be safe with them. That he would be with others like himself._

_He did not believe them._

_Their leader smiled quite a lot, in a friendly way, as though he were trying to make Theon less afraid._

_It did not work._

_His father hadn’t taken very much convincing. The men had told him more than they told Theon, and he’d hardly said a word in protest. A slight pat on the shoulder when they escorted him out the front door, but no resistance. Even when he had struggled and their grips on his arms turned painful…he hadn’t done a thing. If only Yara had been there…_

_It had been a while since Theon had stopped crying, the tears burned away and replaced with a sort of numbness, but they came back instantly when he thought of his sister. She would come home later with no idea where he had gone. Would she come looking for him? Maybe she would. His father wouldn’t, but maybe she would want to take him back from wherever he was going._

_“Where are you taking me?” he asked the man driving him yet again, trying to hide the shaking in his voice, “Where are we going?”_

_Nothing._

_Theon wiped away the remainder of his tears, and turned his eyes to the glass._

_*_

 

A line of gold was rising in the distance, bleeding into the darkness of the sky. Dawn would be coming soon.

Alongside the road, Theon was staggering. He hadn’t thought he could ever walk as far as he had, or for so long, and the effort of it was catching up to him. His legs were so stiff he could hardly move them, and he shuffled more than he actually walked. The cold made it even more difficult.

At least the day was approaching. With any luck it would at least be warmer under a bit of sun, his feet and bleeding fingers could unfreeze.

So far there had been no sign of any pursuers.  Still, he was very wary, glancing behind him as often as possible, half expecting them to appear out of nowhere from behind him. Twice already he had heard a car coming around a corner and dashed behind the line of trees, hiding in place until he was certain they had passed. Whether it was the Managers or not, he couldn’t take any chances.

Now his feet throbbed with each step, toes almost numb with cold. His throat ached; if only he had somehow managed to bring water with him.

_One more step,_ he told himself once again, _one more step._

But with the next step he stumbled, crashing to his knees. Automatically he stretched out his hands to catch himself, only to cry out in pain when fallen pine needles dug into his injured palms. Shaking all over, he tried to make himself stand again, but is body refused to respond, keeping him hunched and freezing on the ground. He tried desperately to get up, to move, but he was so tired and he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it…

In the distance, he heard a car approaching.

_No,_ he thought, _Please not now…not yet._

The sound of the engine rumbled closer, and still Theon couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand. Desperately he began to crawl, as fast as he could towards the tree line. He knew he would not be quick enough.

Behind him, he heard the car come to a stop, headlights streaming into his line of vision.

_This is it_ , he thought, eyes fixed on the ground below him. He’d come so far, _so far,_ but they were here now…perhaps in his heart he’d always known they would find him…

Footsteps behind him. His heart raced and he thought wildly that at least if he was brought back it would be warmer in the car, in his cell…

“You alright, mate? You need help?”

The voice startled him, and it took a second for him to register that it wasn’t one he recognized. Slowly he made himself sit up properly, turned his head.

A man was crouched next to him, balding and round faced. His car sat still on the road behind, headlights cutting into the dark. He placed a hand on Theon’s shoulder, making him jump as though he’d been touched by a live wire. He wasn’t used to touches that did not mean to hurt.

“What do you want?” he demanded, sounding less strong than he hoped, only weary and frightened.

The man looked startled. “I’m not trying to trouble you,” he said, “Just saw you sitting on the side here while I was driving by, thought you might need help.”

Help.

 Theon couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered help. And it wasn’t something he expected from the people outside.

_People are not kind,_ the Manager always told him, _Not out there. They will not be kind to you. They will not help you. Only here will you be taken care of properly._

 “Who are you?” he said warily.

The man looked a little surprised, but held out a gloved hand for him to shake. “Name’s Lee. And you?”

Theon opened his mouth, but couldn’t make himself say anything. It was too dangerous to say his name, if this man knew him, if he was with _them_ somehow…

“You don’t look dressed for this weather,” said the stranger, brushing over the awkward pause. “Shouldn’t be wandering around out here at night. Are you hurt?”

Theon looked down at his maimed, bloody hands. “Not much,” he admitted.

“Where’re  you headed?”

He swallowed, looked back at the horizon and the cluster of lights below it. Was that where he was meant to go?

“You going into town?”

His head jerked back to the man with his wide, innocent eyes. Not cold…not like those eyes that never truly smiled. Perhaps it was only because he was so tired, he would have done nearly anything just to get off that roadside, but he nodded.

“Right. I can drive you in, if you want. I’m just headed in early to work myself, if you tell me where you’re going I can get you there.”

“Why?” Theon asked sharply. It could be a trick. It could always be a trick.

The man shrugged. “Just the kind thing to do, is all. You need a hand?”

The kind thing to do. Theon took the man’s hand, but all the time couldn’t ignore the feeling that this was wrong, all wrong.

Getting to his feet was just as difficult as he’d anticipated. He swayed dangerously, gripping the man’s shoulder for support.

“Easy there,” he said, “Have you been walking all night?”

Theon nodded. The man – Lee – frowned but said nothing, just led him back towards the road.

When they got to the car, Theon stopped suddenly, heart hammering against his ribs. It was as he reached for the door handle; he remembered, just for a second, climbing into the back seat of that car with those strangers, the last time he had done so in years, begging to be told where he was going, where they were taking him…

He jerked his hand back from the handle, as if it had burned him. It wasn’t the same car, he knew that. It wasn’t even black, it was blue, but the whole thing still felt horribly _wrong._

“You alright?” He looked up to see Lee looking curiously at him from the driver’s side. Swallowing hard, he nodded and opened the door, trying very hard not to think too much about it.

It was warmer inside the car, far warmer. He hadn’t realized quite how hard he was shivering until he got inside, but now he wrapped his arms tightly around himself in an attempt to keep away the remaining chills. He paused when closing the door behind him, then flipped the switch to keep it unlocked. Just in case.

Lee started the car, making him jump involuntarily at the sound of the engine. He glanced over at Theon, still looking curious and slightly concerned.

“You’ll want to put your seatbelt on,” he said.

Seatbelt. Of course, he’d almost forgotten.

Lee hummed to himself as they drove. Occasionally he tried to make conversation, but eventually gave up. He asked about his family, where he worked, where he was headed in the city, none of which Theon could answer. Though he did notice he avoided the most obvious question of what he was doing wandering the roadside in the middle of nowhere, for which he was grateful.

Often his eyes went to Theon’s bloody hands, but he said nothing.

 

He was grateful as well for the man’s talkativeness, in a way. He wasn’t – couldn’t be – from the lab, could he? None of them were this cheerful. But it would be just like them, wouldn’t it, to send somebody out under the guise of a helpful stranger only to take him back? At this thought his grip on the unlocked door handle grew tighter.

As the world lightened, Theon began to see his surroundings more clearly. The lights from the town ahead grew less pronounced. The woods on either side of them disappeared, giving way to green countryside. It would have been beautiful under nearly any other circumstance.

He was still on edge; glancing behind the car every few moments and keeping a hand on the door handle just in case, but could no longer deny how tired he was. Every inch of him felt heavy, as though he was being pulled deeper into the seat behind him. Without really meaning to, he let his eyes close. Just for a moment, he would let them rest…

It had seemingly been only a few seconds when someone shook him, jolting him back from somewhere warm and peaceful. The first thing he saw was the strap across his chest, holding him down, holding him back – he clawed at it in a panic, trying to free himself –

“Hey – sorry about that, you fell asleep. We’re here. Don’t know exactly where you need to be, but just let me know.”

Theon stopped struggling. Lee was still there, to his right, looking more concerned than ever.  He looked around, taking deep breaths. Still in the car, still safe, with the bright morning sun streaming in through the windshield. Ahead of them was a cluster of brick buildings with shattered glass in the windows, driveways full of cracks in the pavement.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “Sorry, I – I’ll get out here. Thank you, for everything. Thank you. You have no idea…”

The other man waved it away. “No need to thank me. You’re sure you want me to drop you here?” There was a hint of disdain in his voice as he looked out at the dilapidated buildings.

Theon nodded. Better to stay on the outskirts.

“Right. Honestly, I don’t know what kind of – situation – you’ve got yourself into, and it’s clear you don’t want to tell me, but just…look out for yourself, alright? While you’re in there?”

Theon wasn’t sure what to say. The sincerity of the words stunned him a little.

“I will,” he said, “Really, thank you.”

Lee looked at him strangely, almost calculating. “You really don’t have anything else with you?”

The question surprised him. “I – no.”

“Hm. Just a minute.” He twisted around to the back seat, reaching for something there. When he brought it around, it took Theon a moment to tell what it was.

It was a jacket. Not incredibly thick, but warm looking all the same.

“Take that,” said Lee, “It’s getting colder every day, you’ll freeze without an extra layer.”

Theon didn’t understand. “But…this is yours,” he said.

Lee shrugged. “I’ve got more at home. You take that, it’s the least I can do.”

It didn’t make sense. No sense at all.

“I can’t take this from you. Thank you, but I can’t – “

“Take it. And keep out of trouble, won’t you?”

“I – alright. I will. Thank you, again…”

He kept stammering his thanks even as he left the car. Lee waved a hand to him from the driver’s seat, and rode away, leaving him on the cracked road.

What now? The sounds of life buzzed ahead of him; cars, voices, even the barking of a dog very far away, all the sounds of a life he had once had and nearly forgotten. Had it really been only a day ago that he was confined to a cell, bleeding from his nose and waiting in fear of whatever experiment came next?

He was away from the Lab now, away from the Managers and their cruel tests, but what had he come to? At what cost had he bought his freedom?

It was too much to think about, not now when he was still exhausted from the night’s journey. There was a sort of metal barrier near the closest building, he sank heavily onto it. His hands, though they had stopped bleeding a long time ago, were still aching and stiff with cold, and his legs felt like they were about to fall off. He looked down at the jacket Lee had given him, turning it over in his hands. A kind gesture, so much more than he’d expected…

_People are not kind,_ he thought again, _people will not help you._

But one had.

Theon slipped his arms gratefully into the jacket sleeves, wrapping it tightly around himself. And for a little while, allowed himself to sit and watch the sun rise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another episode, another reminder that Theon is dead. At least once it's over you can come back and read this update as yet another way of denying reality and pretending he's alive and (relatively) safe. Hooray!  
> And yes I know it's taking a long time for him to meet Sansa. Don't worry, it's coming.

_They brought him to a room with a glass window._

_Inside, there was nothing but a metal table and a chair, which they pushed him none too gently into. He sat there trembling, not wanting to ask why he was here for fear of what they would do in response to his questions. Each of the Managers carried a short metal rod from a ring like a keychain, which Theon soon learned emitted a minor but painful electric shock._

_He learned this from asking more questions than they liked._

_One Manager was in the room with him, the one with the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He had been there only a month, and already came to the understanding that this man was the unofficial leader of the rest of them. Theon did not know his name._

_The man smiled in his unconvincing way and reached into his pocket. Theon tensed automatically, not knowing what it was he was going to bring out, but it turned out to be a handful of small rocks that he placed on the table between them._

_“You know what we would like you to do,” he said, “When you’re ready.”_

_He did know. It was a simple test, one of the first ones they had made him do when he arrived. Simple, but not easy at first when he wasn’t used to using his abilities. So he was made to practice. And he knew very well what would happen if he didn’t._

_Slowly, concentrating hard, Theon silently willed the nearest rock to move. Once again came the strange sensation, as though he were tied to the rock by a string, able to control it, though no connection really existed._

_The rock rose into the air._

_He kept going. If he stopped now he would be punished. The others followed it; until two, three, four of the five hovered a foot above the table. One remained, but he was getting dizzy, the fatigue that came with doing too much already beginning to overpower him. Soon his eyes would start to ache, then his nose would bleed. And still he could not let himself fail again. If he could just do one more, just lift the last rock…_

_For the smallest moment his concentration broke, his eyes meeting that of the Manager across from him._

_“Go on,” he said. Like it was a dare._

_Theon lifted the final rock._

_They all floated for a few moments together before his vision began to fade, dark spots appearing before his eyes. He let them all drop and slumped back in his chair, shaking. Blood ran down his chin.  
_

_"Good," he heard the Manager say from a long way off, "That was better than last time, wasn't it?"_

_Theon opened his eyes to see him smiling again, but rather than feeling reassured he just felt sick._

_"Why don't we try again, see if we can manage a little faster this time."_

_He started to protest; he couldn't, he was too tired, he thought he might die if they made him do it again. But then he remembered the electric rods; the horrible ache they left on his skin for hours afterwards._

_He swallowed the tears in his throat, wiped away the blood from his nose, and nodded._

_*_

In the next few weeks, Theon hardly left the rough, abandoned area he had started off in. It was for the better; the more time he spent out in the open, the more dangerous his situation would become. If anyone was able to recognize him, and then _they_ came looking for him…if they knew where to find him and what he looked like it would all be over.

So he stayed out of the way, keeping to the stretch of abandoned warehouses and back alleys bordering the edge of town. It was larger than he had thought; more of a small city. In a way that was better, easier to blend in.

He learned to read the area he was in. Learned which places to avoid altogether, and which alleyways had the best shelter for cutting out the cold at night, and which abandoned lots sometimes drew small groups of other people like him together that were occasionally willing to share food.

It was a long time before he worked up the courage to join one of these groups. The first night he came across a huddle of bundled figures in a deserted parking lot huddled around a hastily made fire, he had run back into hiding. One person from the outside had been kind to him, far kinder than he would have expected. But that did not mean that anyone else would.

When he had been a child, he’d had little fear of strangers. He tried to conjure that innocent kind of confidence now, but any memories that came from _before_ were hopelessly painful. When he tried to remember what it had been like at a younger age, someone who was willing to ask for help, someone who _trusted_ people, he couldn’t do it. All they had done at the Lab, all they had taught him, had torn away any willingness to hope.

But eventually hunger got the better of him. The people in the lot had food. Not a lot, but after a few days of watching them closely from a distance, of observing, he could see some of them passing it to others.

When he finally came out from the shadows to join them, they hardly noticed. One or two nodded in acknowledgement of a newcomer’s presence, but they didn’t seem a very talkative bunch. They let him share the fire, and a bit of their meager food supplies. He got the impression they were used to members of their group coming and going, one unfamiliar face would go easily unnoticed.

Theon spent some nights with them, and plenty of others alone. There was no one place he returned to frequently, each night ending up somewhere a little different. The rough back alleys on the outskirts of the city were more complex than they looked, even if he found somewhere consistent he feared he would get lost.

The first night he spent outside was the worst. The ground was cold beneath him, and even in the sheltered alley he had found the wind cut a bitter chill through his thin layers. Even after he managed to slip into a fitful doze he was startled awake by every small sound that occurred. A sheet of plastic hung over a window above him, rattling loudly every time the wind blew, and somewhere something that sounded like a generator turned on and off repeatedly. He turned over again and again, shivering and clutching his jacket more tightly around him. That was the first of very few times when he considered his escape had maybe not been worth it after all. If he’d stayed, he would have somewhere to sleep. He would have food.

If he’d stayed, he would have a purpose. No matter what that purpose was.

The nights that came after were a little easier. He grew at least used to the sounds of the city at night, and the feeling of rough pavement under his back. It was better than his narrow cot back at the Lab, he reminded himself. Perhaps not more comfortable, but miles better all the same.

Once, when he ventured further into the heart of the city than he had been before, he saw a man sitting hunched against a wall with a tin in front of him on the ground. As he watched, a passerby paused and dropped a few coins into the tin before moving on. Perhaps he would have to do that. Until now he had almost forgotten it was an option, and even so it wasn’t something he wanted to do. He didn’t like the thought of being out there, in the open, with all those _people_ …

But money meant food, and shelter if he knew where to find it. If he was going to survive he would need it badly.

 _And what comes next?_ he thought glumly. If he managed food and water and a place to sleep…what then? He could manage survival, perhaps, but living? Surviving and living were not the same, not the same thing at all.

Not to say that he had lived much of a life back at the Lab. There, he’d been alive at all only for the sake of the Managers. Here, at least he was alive for his own sake.

So one day, ignoring the tight, anxious feeling in his chest that came with being near so many other bodies, he dragged himself out of the alleys and sat down by a wall like he saw the other man doing, like he had seen so many others doing back in his old life.

Most paid him little attention, some none at all. He had expected that. But he was patient, and occasionally someone dropped him a coin or two. After a few days he had a small amount of money, enough to buy something to eat. Entering a shop and purchasing something was an act he was afraid he might have forgotten after all those years. But it came back to him, just enough to pick up an apple and some crackers from a rather dingy corner store and shakily pay for them at the counter. He was relieved, and more than surprised, that he was able to manage it at all.

On the days when he was lucky enough to get this much, he often brought some back to the group he had stayed with earlier, if he could find them. They shared with him, so he shared with them when he could.

There were a few times, though, when he had no money of his own and desperately needed food. Sometimes the people that came to the lot had nothing either, or so little he felt badly taking any from them, or he simply wasn’t able to find enough courage to ask. It was those times when he would find an outdoor vendor, or a store that was  a little more crowded and his presence less likely to be noticed, and sneak whatever small thing he could grab into his pockets without anyone noticing.

 He didn’t like to do it. It felt wrong, even as hungry as he was. He thought, a couple times, of using his _ability_ to get food. To grab something from a distance, without it being traced to him. He came very close, but in the end couldn't make himself, remembering the Managers and their electric shocks.

Would they know, if he used it without permission? Would they find him somehow? It did not seem so unlikely.

But stealing was not the only thing he got better at as time went on. He got good at finding too. Sometimes, he discovered, the abandoned lots and alleys he found himself in were littered with discarded, unused things.

He found a coat. He hadn’t realized what it was at first because it was so grey with layers of dirt and dust. It was much too large for him, so much that it nearly swallowed his frame when he put it on, and  thick with holes, but it was another layer. It was filthy and tattered, but it kept him warm at night.

There was a bag as well, a kind of satchel that he found under a roadside bench. It was empty – he had half hoped there would be some money at the bottom, but was disappointed – and he didn’t _really_ need it, but figured having something to carry food in would be a good idea.

He bought a pair of gloves from one of the dingy shops along the main road; they were poorly made and already beginning to fall apart, but it was far better than nothing. With that and his two jackets he thought he might make it through the winter.

And in the end, he found a home.

It was on a colder night, not windy but _still,_ a deep kind of cold that went straight through his skin and into his bones. He had been walking a very long time that day, keeping to the outer edges of the city still, but moving away from where he was used to. It was when he was trying to get back, back to the familiar lots and dismal buildings he knew, shivering violently as he went. The realization hit him that he could die of the cold out here and never make it back to familiar territory. Not that there was anything particularly welcoming about the places he was used to, but he _knew_ them. This place, while similar, seemed an entirely different entity.

But if he couldn’t make it back in this cold, that meant he needed to stay _here._

So he stumbled along unfamiliar streets looking for anything he could; a sheltered corner under a bit of roof, an alley out of the wind, anything that might be a little warmer than the open street. Only for one night, just some place sheltered enough.

And then he saw an open door.

It was just cracked open, leading to another one of this area’s decrepit buildings, covered in spray paint and lifeless behind the windows. A rickety fire escape stairway ran from one of the upper floors to the ground. Theon didn’t like the look of it, not at all, but being inside any building would be better than being out here, so he went in.

Inside it was very dark, the only light source a single high window. Debris littered the ground, paint peeled from the walls and dripped with more graffiti. It was an old storage space of some kind, evidently never used any more.

In a dark corner a small box sat plugged into the wall. Theon stood back from it at first before realizing he knew what it was – a heater. Whether it had been here before the place was abandoned and left behind or brought in by someone else seeking shelter just like he was he did not know, but either way it was the best stroke of luck he had been dealt in a long time.

Theon flicked a switch and the thing spluttered to life, rattling almost dangerously but producing a small amount of heat. He crouched in front of it a long time, feeling the warmth slowly returning to his stiff limbs and silently thanking whatever fortune had gotten him here.

That night he slept better than he had in days, away from the wind and cold. It was far from a perfect situation, but he thought he might just manage. It was warm here, and sheltered, and easy to find. And at the moment, it was the closest to a home he had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I making Theon steadily more and more miserable (again) just so I can add lots of fluff and comfort later (AGAIN) ? You fucking bet I am.

_He was seventeen._

_His tests were over for the day, he sat trembling with exhaustion in one of the chairs in a testing room. The Manager sat across from him, watching him carefully. He did not know what the look on his face meant, whether he had failed or not. Complete failure was not common for him, but it happened. Those were the worst days._

_The Manager gave a small nod to the other helpers, and Theon tensed automatically. But instead of advancing towards him, they left the room without question, leaving him and the other man alone together. He was not sure that was any better._

_Across from him, the Manager smiled, leaning closer to him over the table. Why, Theon wondered, did he still always try and appear friendly when anyone who had known him knew he was not?_

_“I’ve been meaning to speak with you for some time,” he said, “My colleagues and I have taken a particular interest in you, these past few years. Do you know why?”_

_Theon shook his head. It was best not to say anything unless told to._

_“It is because you are…stronger than some of the other individuals we have been testing. You seem to be able to manage quite a bit more than most of them. It is unusual, even for someone with your abilities.”_

_Theon had heard vague mentions before of these ‘other individuals,’ and had come to gather that he was not the only one in the facility. There were others here, others like him. But whatever else they were he had no idea. He had never seen them. And it was better not to question._

_The Manager grew more serious. “Theon, you do understand why you are here, don’t you?”_

_He swallowed. None of the Managers used his name very often._

_“It’s because I’m…different. Because of…of what I can do.” That was the only reason – wasn’t it? He hoped very dearly it was not a trick question of some kind, that he had just answered wrong._

_“Exactly,” said the Manager, “You are very different, and very special. But do you know why we had to take you so far away? Why we could not allow you to continue living amongst regular people?”_

_“Because I’m dangerous?”_

_The Manager smiled, “Oh, you could be, certainly. Very dangerous. But no, that is not why. This is not a punishment, it is for your own good. You do realize if we continued to let you live amongst other people, as well as train you to hone your skills properly, you would never be accepted by them. They would see someone to be feared, someone to be hated. They would not be kind to you, and they would not help you. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. But here, we are trying very hard to understand you, we have trained people like you for years now. Here, you will never feel left behind. You are safe here, much safer than you would be out there.”_

_Theon absorbed the words. He hadn’t had much experience using his abilities in the outside world. He had not known how, at least not well. But it sounded true, if they let him out now, with his training, how would people see him? If the answer was badly, would he be able to control it for his own sake, out there? He wasn’t very good at controlling it; there were times when he was angry or frightened and it all came out of him without his control. He was punished for it, again and again, but still he could not control it. If he lost control out there…what would they think? Would he be locked up, like some kind of criminal?_

_A thought came to him, one he almost said out loud before remembering it he shouldn’t ask questions. Carefully, very carefully, he looked back at the Manager. His face was almost encouraging._

_“Sir?” he said tentatively, “Can – can I ask a question?”_

_“You may. Go on.”_

_“Why…why bring me here at all? I barely knew how to do – what I can do – before  I came here. I would be safer out there if I just didn’t know at all, wouldn’t I?”_

_The Manager looked thoughtful, but Theon thought he saw a glimpse of something else in his eyes as well; surprise. He had not expected that question._

_Quickly he rearranged his features back into that unconvincing smile. “Well, you see, we needed to make sure you were trained properly. Eventually, when you’re older, you will be fully in control of your abilities. And that’s when we will need you. Because it’s like you said, you could become very dangerous if you knew how to control them completely, and bend them to your will.”_

_“You need me…to be dangerous?”_

_“We need you to be powerful. But being dangerous has its benefits too. One day, you see, you and all the others like you will be able to help us fight against some very bad people. You will be a weapon for us.”_

_“A weapon?” Theon repeated._

_“Yes.”_

_“What bad people are you talking about?”_

_The Manager smiled again, this time making no effort to try and fake any warmth. “That is not for you to know. But I thought we owed it to you, after all this time, to tell you your purpose here. That is it. Someday, in the future, you will help us get what we need.”_

_He rose, watching Theon as he did so. He went to the door where a helper stood waiting for him. In the doorway he paused, turning back to the boy at the table. “Remember,” he said, “The outside world is crueler than here. This is where you are meant to be, and this – all of this – is for your own benefit. One day you will understand.”_

_And with that he closed the heavy metal door, leaving Theon with a hundred more questions._

*

 

The days were growing colder. It hadn’t begun to snow, no more than the occasional light dusting that was melted by midday, but with the temperature steadily dropping it wouldn’t be long before it came. More often it rained; a cold, icy sludge that was almost worse.  Christmas lights appeared on buildings, the streets filled with people looking to do their last minute shopping before the day came in little more than a week.

Each day Theon wandered the streets almost aimlessly, picking up whatever random objects he found that could prove useful, and sitting down along street corners in hopes of getting some amount of money. Each night he would retreat to the abandoned building, to the corner where the space heater stood plugged in and waiting for him.

He was not well. He hadn’t expected to be, not when he rarely ate and slept even less. Every day he could feel himself becoming more and more tired, the dense cold that lay over the city seeming to weigh him down and leave him weaker than he was the day before. There was a constant ache in his bones, from trudging around in the cold wind or sleeping against hard cement every night he did not know, but it ate at him until he was too fatigued to do very much at all.  

One day he simply could not get warm, no matter how tightly he wrapped his oversized coat around himself. He sat huddled outside a rarely attended pharmacy most of the day, shivering and waiting for some passerby to drop some change into his bag laid open on the sidewalk, trying to make himself as uncomfortable as possible so he wouldn’t fall asleep.

 Going back to the warehouse that night was the worst of it; he was dizzy and freezing and felt exhausted enough to fall asleep even as he walked. He thought about it, curling up on the ground right where he was and letting himself rest, but somehow managed to struggle onward until he reached the graffiti covered door. Once inside he barely had time to switch on the heater before slumping to the ground, leaving the meager food he’d collected the past days untouched. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t hungry.

Despite how tired he was, his sleep that night was painfully disturbed. His dreams were uncomfortable and fragmented, slipping away at the last moment to leave him shaking and confused. Half the night he spent only partly asleep, unsure if he really was in the warehouse with the fire escape, or back on his cot in a dark, tiny cell.

He woke in the morning with a harsh fit of coughing that rattled his entire frame. When it ended he curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut against the dim light from the window. It was too much…too bright…

His muscles screamed in protest when he tried to stretch out even the smallest amount, so he remained where he was in his cramped position, still shivering despite the warmth from the heater. The coughing came back, this time so painful that tears stung his eyes. He couldn’t move, could barely _think…_

 _Not now,_ he thought weakly, _I can’t be ill, not now._

But he was, there was no denying it. Theon hadn’t been truly sick in all the time he spent at the Lab – something the Managers made sure of. He’d almost forgotten how bad it could make a person feel.

The thought of trying to stand was extremely daunting, even when he knew he had to get back to the streets. He couldn’t stay here, even for one day, if he didn’t take every opportunity to find money or food…

 _Only a little longer,_ he told himself. He would lie here just a minute, just until his bones ached a little less…

After a while the pain and tiredness from everywhere on his body all joined together in a dull, sore feeling, as if he were made of bruises. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to try to move at all, wanted only to let his brain shut off. But sleeping wasn’t an option. Even if it had been, he doubted he would get comfortable enough to be able to.

 _One minute more,_ he thought, _just one minute more_ … one minute more, then he would make himself get up.

Slowly, painfully, he began to push himself off the ground. The cement floor rocked beneath him, almost sending him crashing back down, but he shut his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths until he was properly upright. He sat shivering, head spinning, trying to form a coherent stream of thought. It was a long time before he managed to stand at all.

Hours later he sat huddled outside the pharmacy again, bag laid open in front of him. He felt, if possible, even worse than he had that morning. The bitter wind cut through all layers of clothing, adding to the violent chills that already wracked his body. His cough was almost constant now, and his breath rattled in his chest even when he wasn’t coughing. A few times he almost dozed off against the wall he sat by, only to be jerked awake again by a sudden sound, head and neck aching. It would be easier, perhaps, to not even try to find the warehouse again tonight. To sleep out here on the street. It would be freezing  and uncomfortable, but he felt so weak he wasn’t entirely sure he could find the place again without collapsing.

He had dozed off again, feeling as though he were wandering through an endless throng of people; their faces blurred and unfamiliar, edges blending into one another, none of them looking his way even when he called out for help…

“Are you alright?”

A voice cut through the shadowy dreams, pulling him back to the cold street corner. He blinked, feeling dazed, mind still half in the dream world. His eyes eventually rested on a person crouching next to him; a young woman, her face anxious. She had blue eyes. Eyes like…

 _Yara?_  he thought. But no…he blinked again and it couldn’t be her…didn’t look like her, even if she’d been older.

“What?” he mumbled, voice weak from a lack of use.

“I asked if you were okay. It’s awfully cold for you to be out here, do you have…nowhere you can go?”

Theon thought of the warehouse basement. And of the long, cold way from there to here.

“I…I have somewhere.” Vaguely he wondered why this person was asking about his wellbeing at all.

The woman nodded. “That’s good. Try and get somewhere warm tonight, alright?”

When he didn’t respond, she gave a small, rather awkward laugh. “It’s just that – I’m sorry – I couldn’t tell…I mean, you almost looked like you could be dead, there on the ground...I'd passed by here twice already and you hadn't moved, so I thought it would be best if I checked…”

 _Perhaps I really am dead,_ he thought wearily.

“I’m…alright,” he said, “Thank you. For checking.” It was odd, too odd to think about _why_ she had thought to check on a ragged man huddled on a street corner, so he tried not to think about it.

There seemed to be some kind of struggle going on in the woman’s face, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to do something. Her eyes went from Theon’s crumpled form to the bag in front of him on the sidewalk. She chewed her lip.

“Wait a moment,” she said abruptly, “I’ll be back. Just give me a minute.” And then she was gone, leaving Theon feeling rather confused. What was she doing now?

She was back in a moment, he saw her coming around the corner with something in her hand. Now that he had shaken off the fogginess of sleep, he could see that she looked nothing like his sister. She was far taller, and her hair was red.

“Here,” she said when she reached him, handing him what she held. “I know it’s not much, but I thought if you needed food…”

He stared blankly at it for a moment before realizing it was a sandwich. That and a plastic bottle of water.

Theon’s head was swimming. All the days he had spent begging, scrounging for whatever he could find in alleyways, and now this woman was going out of her way to buy him food and water? It didn’t make sense, _none_ of it made sense, he had half a mind to think it was just another dream.

And all the time he heard the Manager’s voice inside his head. _People are not kind,_ it said, _People will not help you._

With a shaking hand, he took the food.

“Thank you,” he said, “That was…kind.”

She smiled a little sadly. “I wish I could do more. You just…try to get yourself somewhere warm tonight, won’t you?”

He nodded without really thinking about it and watched as she turned and walked the other way, long hair streaming out behind her. Part of him thought it must be some sort of cruel trick, that either she or his mind were lying to him somehow. There wasn’t any _reason_ for it, no reason at all for her to help him like this.

There hadn’t been any reason for Lee to do so either, he reminded himself.

Eventually, after the longest day of his life, night fell. Theon jerked awake after almost falling asleep yet again to see that the sky had gone dark, the bustle of daily life slowed significantly. The sandwich lay untouched in his bag; he hadn’t had the heart to tell the woman that he had no desire to eat, but he’d taken a few sips of his water. It would be best to save the food for later.

 He stood very shakily, leaning against the wall when the ground threatened to slide out from beneath him. The wind had picked up again, filling him with a biting cold once more. Slowly, with difficulty, he started moving.

He went on, shuffling through the maze of side streets and lanes, back to the alleys and ragged fences he was used to.

One foot in front of the other. As long as he kept going, no matter how long and painful the process, he would make it back home.

_One foot in front of the other._

His legs shook so badly he thought they would collapse under him…

_One more step_

The freezing air seeped into his lungs, his breathing was even more painful than before…

_One more_

Where was the building with the fire escape?…

_One –_

“You got something there?”

Theon looked up from his feet with dull eyes, struggling to focus on the speaker. A man stood in front of him – not much older than himself – with his arms folded. He looked around and saw that he’d wandered into an alleyway that ended in a dead end. Not the way back to home.

Behind the man he could make out the shadowy forms of two other people lurking in the dark. A sound of footsteps behind him told him that a fourth had joined as well.

A cold, sick weight dropped into his stomach.  He couldn’t say what was going to happen next, but knew it would not be good.

Theon felt the ground tilt and shut his eyes briefly, waiting for the spinning to stop and gripping the wall beside him even harder. When he opened them, the man was standing closer to him, watching him with a cruel sort of look that he did not like at all. His eyes dropped to the bag, clutched against his chest.

“What’ve you got in there?” he asked, voice deceptively light.

Theon tightened his grip on the bag. “My food,” he said. _Please just let me by._

“Heard something else in there, too. You got money?”

He swallowed. There was no point in lying. “Only a little.”

“See, my friends and I are feeling pretty hungry tonight. And we’re in need of some money too. Why don’t you just hand that bag of yours over, and we won’t trouble you anymore. Fair?”

Not the bag…not his food, it was all he had…

“No,” he whispered. A snort came from one of the men in the shadows.

“No?” repeated the leader. Theon flinched – for a second it was just like the Manager; _No? Are you sure? You do know what will happen if you can’t, don’t you?_   “Come on, mate, don’t be difficult. We don’t want to hurt you.”

That was what the Managers had said, what they _always_ said, and they just ended up hurting him anyway. He was shaking all over; this couldn’t be happening, not now, not tonight when he was sick and tired and cold and just wanted to go home. If he just gave it to them, handed the bag over…

But he couldn’t. It was all he had, all he owned in the world. A nearly unnoticeable spark of _something_ rose up inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Defiance. Anger.

“I’m not giving it to you,” he said, voice louder but wavering still.

The leader considered him, looking him over with a calculating glance. He stared back, trying to hide the fact that his legs were shaking and his head spinning, and hoping against everything that they would just leave him alone, turn around, realize he wasn’t worth it the trouble…

 _Please don’t,_ he thought, _I’m ill, please don’t._

He’d just begun to think maybe he had been dealt a stroke of luck, when the other man hit him in the face.

The blow caught him off guard, sending him staggering into the wall. Pain blossomed across his cheek, almost blinding, ears ringing sickeningly. He got clumsily to his feet.

 Bag – he’d dropped the bag – he darted forward to pick it back up from where it lay, but someone grabbed his arms from behind, pinning him. He struggled and another blow landed in his stomach. The breath went out of him completely; for several moments he doubled over, gasping, unable to draw even the smallest amount of breath. Once it returned he only started coughing painfully, until spots rose in front of his eyes and tears streamed down his face. Then he hung there limply, wheezing, the arms holding him the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’ve got it, leave him and let’s go,” said a distant voice. One thing registered; they still had his bag. They couldn’t take it, they _couldn’t._  

With all his strength he struggled again, stomping feebly in the direction of his captor’s foot. All this achieved was him being shoved face first against the brick wall, a heavy arm pinning him roughly in place. The leader of the group came back into view, looking almost sympathetically at Theon.

“I told you to make it easy for us,” he said, “but now it seems we need to teach you a bit of a lesson.”

Something flicked in his hand that made Theon stop struggling immediately. The silver gleam of a short blade stood out in the darkness, uncomfortably close to his face.

The man holding him from behind turned him forcefully towards his companion, an iron grip still tight around his arms. The knife came closer, resting just at the hollow of his neck. Panic surged through him – he wouldn’t die like this, not here, not now in this lonely alley away from anyone and anything, not when he’d come so far…

He struggled again, harder than before. A hand tried to grab him by the hair and he bit down, teeth meeting flesh. Another blow caught him in the jaw, making him cry out in pain. His knee found someone’s stomach and he heard a grunt.  At some point in the scuffle he felt the blade catch his shoulder and drag down along his arm, a bright, new pain stinging in the cold air. If he could just free his hands, if he could get out…he wouldn’t let them do any more…

Raising his head he saw dimly the leader of the group getting to his feet and advancing again, knife in hand. His gaze went to his bag lying half open on the ground a yard away, everything he owned in the world…

Using every ounce of strength he still possessed, Theon focused his eyes on the man approaching him.

“You asked for this, you know. We would’ve left you alone, but you had to be difficult didn’t you? If you want a fight, we’ll give you one – “ the man cut himself off, frowning. Theon watched as his look of confusion turned steadily to panic.

Because he could no longer move.

He stood immobile, one arm outstretched, struggling to move his feet. But it was as though an invisible barrier had formed between him and his prey, making it impossible for him to move an inch forward. His companions stood still as well, watching in bewilderment.

 “What the hell?” he shouted, “What is this?”

Theon’s eyes burned. A trickle of blood ran from his nose.

 _Now,_ he thought, just as his vision started to go black. With an enormous effort, he _pushed._

Several things happened almost at once.

The man in front of him flew backwards and slammed into the alley wall, crying out as he fell to the ground, just as Theon slumped in his captor’s arms. The others yelled in shock, running towards their friend, and the man holding Theon let him go. He dropped like a stone, barely conscious of the fall, only dimly registering the rough gravel beneath his cheek.

Weakly he raised his head, eyes locking on one of the party who had just rounded back to him, fear and rage written all over his face. He didn’t think about how much it would hurt, just wrapped his mind around the invisible string connecting the two of them and pulled with all his strength. The man slammed into the opposite wall, and Theon collapsed again.

He still caught fragments of senses, as he lay on the ground; confused and panicked voices, the cut throbbing on his arm, the tang of blood in his mouth…he let it all slide, slide, fade away into nothingness…

The voices faded, as did the skid of footsteps. Dimly he was aware that he was alone now. They were gone…they were gone…

For a very long time he lay there, shaking and exhausted, almost wishing he would lose consciousness. He was facedown, bits of shattered cement cold and grating against his skin. The places where he’d been punched felt like someone had taken a hammer to them rather than a fist. He thought he might never move again.

Something cold touched his face, barely noticeable, he thought vaguely that it must be his own icy sweat. But then it happened again, and again, wet drops that felt colder each time they hit.

He dragged his eyes open, turned his head as much as he could without it being painful. Another flake floated to the ground near his face, softer and colder than rain.

Snow.

Theon shut his eyes again, not bothering to move even as the snowfall grew heavier. It didn’t seem worth it. He figured he might be too tired to even notice if he died right here and now.

Eventually a strong spasm of cold hit him, making him shiver violently. The freezing cold was making his awareness come back just enough to remember how uncomfortable he was lying there, chilled and aching. His thoughts flickered back to the room with the space heater, he thought of curling up there unnoticed, hidden to the world. It couldn’t be too far away from here, he must have only gone an alley or two too far– if only he didn’t feel so completely drained of energy.

Very, very slowly he began to make himself move. He tried to push up from the ground once, and couldn’t get very far before collapsing back. He tried again, ignoring the burning in his muscles and the dizziness that threatened to overcome him as he sat upright. Eyes squeezed shut, he dragged himself to the wall where he slumped sideways, breathing heavily. His teeth were chattering. There were a few spots of his own blood on the concrete where he had been lying, he could still feel it running down from his nose. Gingerly he stretched out his left arm, pushing up the sleeve to look at the damage. The cut didn’t look too deep, but was still bleeding everywhere. Why, _why_ had those men attacked him? He hadn’t done anything, he only wanted to go home...

He glanced back out over the alleyway and saw no sign of his bag. They had taken it anyway. A weak sob escaped him; all he owned, all he had to eat or drink…the woman on the street had been so kind earlier in the day, now it was all for nothing…

The snow was falling quite a bit heavier now, a sudden wind gusting it in all directions. That combined with his now cold sweat made him shiver more intensely than before. If he didn’t get somewhere warm soon, he could freeze; he knew, but hardly had the strength to move.

He would not die out here. Maybe he would die of starvation in a few days, but not now. Not tonight.

Clutching his wounded arm to his chest just as he had his bag a few hours ago, Theon stood. His vision darkened for a moment once he was upright and he staggered, leaning heavily on the wall for support.

Step by step, moving barely an inch at a time, he went forward.

It was no longer the fire in him that he had felt during the fight which kept him going now, that was all gone. This was only a raw, painful determination to get home, and to get warm.

He shuffled onward, through the alleyway, then a street, then another alley, trying in vain to remember the right way. But his head swam and he couldn’t focus, and in the dark and the snow it all looked so different, he could be going in circles for all he knew. A few times he stopped to cough, or because his legs were shaking with the effort. His head ached terribly.

Panic began to rise in him as he stumbled through steadily more unfamiliar territory. Where _was_ he? How far had he come, and how had he managed to get so far away? Around every corner he checked for the spray painted building with a fire escape, but it was never there. A part of him began to wonder desperately if it had been his imagination all along.

At one point he stopped at the mouth of yet another alley, (one he had already traversed?) leaning against the corner and gasping for air. He was shaking all over, his throat choked with panicked tears. The snow spiraled dizzyingly along the street in front of him, making his head spin even worse. Which way? Which way? If he couldn’t get back, if he couldn’t find it…

The street in front of him was lined with small houses, all built similarly to each other.  Somehow he had left the ragged city edges and come back into a residential area. He began to walk, as best as he could, up the street, with no idea where he was going or what he was trying to do, only knowing that he was very, very far away from where he meant to be.

Everything got _worse_ the more he walked; his lungs were on fire after a while, and he thought he must be weaving drunkenly through the street, with how much the world appeared to be spinning. Several times he slipped in the wet, snowy street. He couldn’t keep going. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t…

In the time to come, Theon would never be sure exactly what made him do what he did next. All he knew was that he was impossibly tired, and the house he had stopped next to had a light on out front. The sheets of snow and his own bleary eyes made it look like it was bleeding out into the darkness, a warm, smudged circle in the midst of the cold.

He almost never allowed himself to remember his mother’s voice, but he did then. _If you’re ever lost, just ask for help._ He swallowed his tears.

And, as though he were a moth drawn to a flame, he went towards the light.

The light was beside the door, the very front door, which he couldn’t bring himself to approach. Stairs out front, leading down to another door…his hand was on the railing before he realized, and he nearly fell down into the sort of pit at the bottom.

_Don’t be afraid._

Thinking he must truly have lost his mind, but thinking more about how cold and painful everything was, he raised his fist and knocked weakly.

_Ask for help._

Nothing for a few long moments, then, startling him, the door opened. He saw a flood of bright light, and a young woman. Part of him recognized her instantly, the rest of him didn’t care, didn’t care at all.

Her face changed from confusion to alarm. “Oh my God…what happened to you?”

The image in front of him tilted, blurring in the light. He swayed dangerously and the woman caught him.

“Help,” he managed to get out, “Please help me.” Everything was getting dimmer…

“Come inside,” he heard, somewhere very far off. He let her half drag him through the doorway, trembling all over, barely able to stand any longer. He caught a dim, shadowy glimpse of the room beyond, a hallway…before the ground rushed up to him and he fell painfully to his knees.

She was in front of him, kneeling in front of him, he could feel the warmth of her hands along his arms as he shook uncontrollably. Did he know her?

“What happened?” she asked again, “Are you hurt? Do I need to call someone?”

_Call._

“No,” he croaked, “Please don’t call anyone, please don’t, you can’t – they’ll find me…”

“…the hospital? Police?”

“No one. Please. I’m lost, I’m just lost, I need to go home…” He was crying, hot tears almost blinding him.

“Where is home?” she asked, her voice very gentle, “Look at me, that’s it.”

He looked back at her, at her face. Dully he registered that her eyes looked kind. Kind and blue.

“Where’s home, can you tell me? Can you tell me where you need to go?”

He couldn’t explain, he couldn’t _remember._ Somewhere warm…

“I don’t know,” he sobbed, “Somewhere…I don’t know, I’m lost, I don’t know where to go, please don’t call anyone…”

He felt her arm go under his shoulder, lifting him up. He was walking again, no, he didn’t want to go back out there…not to the cold…

Something soft was under him. Her voice came back, fading in and out, though he couldn’t understand any of it.

“Don’t…” he got out; he meant to say _Don’t make me go back,_ but part got lost somewhere in the confusion. He hurt everywhere. It was too much, he thought, far too much.

 And then he thought nothing at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff fluff fluffity fluff. Also I know Sansa is a bit ooc, but to be fair it's an AU that bears absolutely no resemblance to canon so I can do whatever I want. You'll see more of her personality in the chapters to come.  
> See the end for more notes

Dreams clung to Theon’s mind like cobwebs.

He could feel, in a sense, bits and pieces of reality pushing through, but they were fragmented and bleary. And he didn’t really _want_ to be awake. Wakefulness meant pain and fear and confusion, it was easier to lie here, drifting.

Even swimming closer to the surface of consciousness it wasn’t so bad. He was warmer than before, and was lying down, that much he could tell. It wasn’t altogether uncomfortable. But he couldn’t remember – or didn’t want to – where he was or how he had gotten there.

 _I’m alive,_ was the first real, lucid thought he had.

The wonderful forgetfulness of sleep was beginning to ebb away, no matter how much he tried to will it back. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to have to _do_ anything. But despite his efforts the last dreamlike fragments were fading, leaving him with nothing but what was here, and what was now.

Whatever he was lying on was soft, certainly not the rough concrete alleyway. That seemed to be a good sign. Slowly, he pulled his eyes open, and tried to make some sense of his surroundings.

He was staring up at a ceiling, and not a familiar one either. He was lying on something; not a bed, a sofa. A light came from somewhere in the room, giving it a warm, hazy glow.

The warmth he’d felt was due to a heap of blankets piled on top of him. The amount seemed a bit excessive, but he made no attempt to move them. Something was behind his head as well, propping him up just enough that he wasn’t completely flat. Someone had removed the dusty coat he had found, as well as the jacket Lee had given him.

He tried to raise his head, to sit up, and couldn’t.

There was a stiffness in his left arm as he shifted, he raised it awkwardly from the blankets and found it wrapped in bandages. That was strange, he couldn’t remember…

Theon shut his eyes again, not wanting to think, not wanting to remember. He wanted to sleep. All he knew – all that mattered – was that he at least seemed safe, for now. Here in this warm room, away from the cold and the snow and the bitter wind. He didn’t want to think too hard about it in case it was all taken away.

The room around him, the light, the warmth, all slid away as the tendrils of dreams took him back again.

 

Somebody was shaking him.

He woke immediately, heart racing, looking around wildly. Someone else was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, and at first the face above his own was that of the Manager, smiling coldly. He jerked away, pushing himself up and back, tried to free his hands but they were caught in something – restraints? No, a blanket…what was going on?

“It’s alright,” said the other person, “I’m not going to hurt you.”  The hand was still there on his shoulder. Small and warm, not the Manager then…

Slowly his gaze went from it to the face in front of him, and then it _wasn’t_ the Manager, only a young woman with red hair and wide, concerned eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said again, “You can go back to sleep in a minute, I just want to check your temperature.”

Theon tried to speak, but his throat was so dry and sore that he only managed to start coughing again. The woman left his side for a few moments and came back with a glass of water and handed it to him. He sipped it slowly, until he felt like he had his voice back. Even then he did not know what to ask first.

Taking deep, shaky breaths, he looked around the room. It was the same one he had a vague memory of staggering into earlier. How much earlier he wasn’t sure; he wasn’t sure either of what time of day it was now. Had he been here an hour? Several?

“Here,” she said, taking his empty glass, “You lie back down, just wait a moment.”

She pushed him gently back to the pillow behind him. There was something in her hand, a short grey rod. Theon tensed; it couldn’t be, not now, _she_ couldn’t be…

“What are you doing?” he said, his voice shaking, “What is that?”

She frowned, confused. Then it dawned on her. “It’s just a thermometer. It won’t hurt you, I promise. You do…you do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Theon swallowed, eyes still on the _thing_ in her hand. It was starting to look more familiar, but he still could not shake the resemblance to the electric rods the Managers carried…

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought it was…was something else…”

Feeling slightly dazed, he lay still as she slipped it into his mouth. He flinched automatically, half expecting a shock. Only when he realized it wasn’t coming did he start to relax a little. The woman…he remembered seeing her in the doorway, feeling her warm hands along his arms…but another memory of her was nagging at him, one that he couldn’t quite place. Had she been the one that took care of his arm? But he couldn’t remember that…there was a fog over his memories after he stumbled in from the cold.

He watched her only out of the corner of his eye, sitting in a chair by the sofa and glancing at him occasionally. Her long hair fell in her face once or twice, and she brushed it away. She’d _helped_ him, why had she helped him?

An electronic beeping startled him, and her a little, he saw her jump. She took the thermometer back and frowned at it, chewing her lip.

“Not bad,” she said, “It’s better than it was. You were burning up when you came in, could’ve cooked an egg on your forehead…how are you feeling now?”

“I…I don’t know.” This was all too strange, too bizarre.

“Do you feel sick?”

The honest answer was ‘yes’. While his head was a little clearer, he was still very sore and very tired, and his breath felt tight in his chest. The room spun if he moved too quickly. He didn’t think he would be able to stay standing for very long if he tried.

“I think I’m a little better.”

She nodded, still looking worried. “That’s good. How’s the arm? I patched it up as best as I could, it didn’t seem too deep…”

Theon lifted the bandaged arm from his blankets. The cut was still tender, but not terribly so.

“It feels alright.”

“Okay. Good. You seem better. But you should still rest for a while – do you want anything? I can make tea.”

“I – no. That’s alright. Thank you, but you don’t need to…I’m alright. You don’t need to do anything. Thank you.”

A horrible thought came to him, very suddenly, like an icy weight falling into his stomach. This was all wrong, it _was_ all wrong, he should have known…

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t be here. I need to leave. You’ve been very kind, you shouldn’t have been, you should’ve left me, you shouldn’t have let me in…”

He was filled with panic again, unable to get the words out properly.

“It’s okay,” the woman said gently, “You can stay here as long as you need. Really, it’s alright.”

“It’s not that. It’s not that. You – I’m putting you in danger. You don’t understand, I need to be by myself, I can’t be here, they’ll come for me…” he cut himself off before he babbled anything else; he couldn’t _tell_ her.

Her face softened. “I do,” she said, “I do understand. You’re safe here, nobody will find you.”

“No, you… you don’t _know…”_ How could he make her understand, without telling her everything?

“I do know,” she said quietly, “I – I know what you are. I know where you’re from, I think. At least I know a little. And I promise you, I won’t let them take you back.”

For a brief second, all Theon felt was relief. She knew. She knew and she was helping him anyway. She _understood._ But only for a second, and then his blood ran cold.

“What do you mean?” he said, “How do you…how can you know that, you _can’t_ know that…”

She hesitated, then gently pulled back the neck of his shirt, where she had bandaged his shoulder. There, uncovered, was the mark. The white circle crossed with a line, branded into him the day he came to the Lab. As far as he knew, every single one who was _like him_ carried the same mark, in the same place.

He looked up to see her watching him closely. “When you showed up…I wanted to call the police. Or a doctor, it was clear you were – a bit of a mess…”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“No. Of course not. I’m glad I didn’t, now, but I almost did. And then I saw you were bleeding, and I checked to see how bad it was, and that’s when I saw it. That’s when I knew.”

Theon stared wordlessly at her. He wanted to ask – very badly wanted to ask – how in the world she knew what that mark meant, but a different question came to him as he looked at her. It had just hit him…

“I know you,” he said, “I remember you…”

She gave a small smile. “I gave you food, this morning. I didn’t know what you were, then, I had no idea.” She laughed, “I did say I wished I could do more for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, “For that…and this. I…I never thought anyone outside would be kind, like that. I never thought they would help me.”

She was looking almost sadly at him. Like she felt sorry for him. He had not seen that kind of expression in a very long time.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean to. I was just wandering…I wasn’t thinking…I had no idea where you lived.”

She looked puzzled, as if she thought he might be lying to her. But it was the truth; he hadn’t known. Of all the place he could have found, and it happened to be the home of someone he had already met…that was the luckiest thing that had happened to him in a while. Almost too lucky…

“How do you know about the mark?” he almost didn’t want to know.

Her face darkened. “I – I don’t…” she took a deep breath, steadying herself, “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry. It’s…complicated, and not…not a happy story.” She looked back up at him. “I am sorry. Later, maybe I’ll tell you, when you’re feeling better…I just can’t.”

It sounded real. Whatever the reason was upsetting to her, somehow, that was clear. But her reluctance to talk about it made his anxiety grow all the same.

Theon spoke very quietly, almost not wanting to say it. “It’s not because…I mean, you’re not…one of them? You’re not _from_ there?”

It could be a trick, it could all be a trick; her kindness towards him, the coincidence of meeting the same woman twice…

He saw the realization come to her, what he was implying, she looked horrified.

“No, no, no. Of course not, sweetheart, I’m not…this isn’t…” she struggled to find the words, only looking more upset.

“This isn’t a trick,” she said, “Whoever…if there are people looking for you, I’m not one of them. I promise you. I know what this must seem like, I know you must not... want to trust anyone, but I swear, I’m only trying to help.”

Theon looked warily at her, at the seemingly genuine softness in her face. It _shouldn’t_ be true, it was all wrong…people weren’t kind, people didn’t help…

Tentatively, she placed a slender hand on his shoulder. For once he didn’t flinch. “I know this all must be very strange to you,” she said, “Believe me, I know. And I know you’re confused and scared, and you probably don’t trust me at all, but I really do want to help you.”

“Why? Why are you helping me?”

She hesitated. “Because it’s the right thing to do. And because it wasn’t fair, what happened to you. Whatever happened to you – back there – it wasn’t right. I suppose I’m…trying to make up for it, since I’ve got the chance.”

None of this made any sense. It hadn’t made sense before, when this same person had given him food on the street, and it didn’t make sense now. How could she be so _kind?_ How could anyone? And she knew what he was – somehow, impossibly, she knew what he was – and she wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t recoil from him as though he were something dangerous, something tainted. Hadn’t the Manager always told him people would be afraid, if they had any idea?

Thinking about it all, trying to make sense of it, only made his head hurt more. Part of him still couldn’t believe any of it was real at all.

“I’m glad I found you,” he said, his voice small and rather tight, “I am. This just…this isn’t…” his hands were shaking, throat getting more choked by the second. He breathed deep, fighting to find his voice.

“I’m not used to…to any of this. You _shouldn’t_ be helping me, I don’t want to – to –“ 

“To what?”

“…I don’t want to trouble you at all. It’s safer for you if you just let me go…it would be better…”

She frowned at him, considering. “Where have you been living?”

“What?”

“When I saw you first, you said you had somewhere to stay. What did you mean by that?”

He told her. He told her all about how he’d spent his first nights in town sleeping in alleyways, and foraged for food, and about finding the warehouse to sleep later. He told her about Lee, and about starting to get sick. Once he began, he found it hard to stop, as though something inside him had burst and was finally letting go of everything he’d kept locked up.

 No… not everything. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about all that had happened at the Lab. Not yet. Even if she said she understood.

When he was done, her frown had deepened, she only looked more concerned.

“So you’ve just been out on the street this whole time? In the cold?”

He shrugged. “It could have been worse.”

She shook her head. “You’re not well. I’m not going to let you go back out there on your own, not like this. You’re staying here, at least until you’re better. I can take care of you.”

“But –“

“How do you think I’d feel if I knew you were back out there alone? You’re not going anywhere.”

The rest of Theon’s protests died at her fierce look. Was it true he was safe here? Did he even know what it meant to be safe anymore?

“Do you want to eat anything? Do you still have the food I gave you?”

Theon flinched as the memory of the robbers came flooding back. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t wanted to remember…

“They took it,” he muttered.

“Somebody took it? Who?”

He blinked away sudden tears. “I…I don’t know. A group of men…they found me in an alley…they took everything I had. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be _sorry._ That’s terrible. Are they the ones that hurt your arm?”

He nodded.

Her mouth was a tight line. “Did they beat you as well? Was that them?”

“How do you -?”

She smiled rather bitterly. “You can’t see yourself, but you look a mess. I thought your nose was broken at first, it was bleeding so much. I don’t think it is, but you’re still a bit of a mess.”

He _felt_ a mess. Broken bones or not, there was a sharp ache all over his body, like he’d been shredded and sewn back together. His face felt especially bruised. Absent mindedly he touched the base of his nose. There was no blood there now; she must have cleaned it away. The thought made him slightly embarrassed.

“That…that wasn’t from them,” he said, “It was me. I…I used…” the realization hit then, what he had done, and a cold dread crept into his chest. He shouldn’t have, he wasn’t supposed to…

He looked at her, almost pleadingly. “I’m not supposed to use it. Not without permission. If they find out…”

“No one will find out,” she said gently, “They’re miles away. They can’t find you.”

Of course not, of course they couldn’t. He was here, and they were back there…

“So you did – something – to make them leave?”

He remembered the strain behind his eyes…the _crunch_ of the man who attacked him slamming into the wall… he shivered.

“I fought back,” he said quietly, “I scared them away.”

Uncertainly, he looked back at her, waiting for her to show fear, or disturbance. _People are afraid of what they don’t understand. They will fear you._

She looked concerned still, but not afraid. “I’m glad you did what you could,” she said. She was gazing at him in a strange way, but not fearfully or angrily, more like she wasn’t quite sure he was real at all. He wanted to tell her, and very nearly did, that he wasn’t sure she was real either. That part of him wondered if all this was just a fever dream and he was still lying in that alleyway or curled up on the street corner. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes again, and he wiped them away impatiently. He was tired of crying.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to touch his hair, “You’re okay now. Don’t worry about all that. You’re okay.”

He let the tears fall, cursing himself for breaking down again. But she was too kind, too gentle. She brushed the hair back from his forehead, not talking _,_ letting him cry silently, and it was too much.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I shouldn’t – I’m sorry.”’

“It’s alright. Don’t worry. I think you’ve been through a lot; it might take a while for you to – to get better.”

“It…it might, yes.”

“And I’ll help you, for now. As much as I can. I just realized… I never asked your name; do you mind telling me?”

He hesitated. What harm could come of it though, really?

“Theon,” he said, ignoring the lingering fear that this was all a trick, that she would only bring him back.

She smiled. “I’m Sansa.” She held out a hand, a little awkwardly. It took Theon a moment to realize she meant for him to shake it. He untangled his right hand from the blanket nest and they shook.

“Sansa,” he said uncertainly, “Can you tell me…what time is it?”

She glanced at the wall behind him where, he guessed, a clock probably hung. “Almost nine. It was around half past seven when you got here,” she added, answering the unasked question.

“And you…you’re sure about this? Letting me stay? You don’t have to.”

“Well, I’m going to. Stay, I can at least try to look after you for a while.”

It was either here, or the cold outside. And she didn’t seem like she would let him choose the latter.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

Sansa stood, still looking at him a little sadly. “You look half dead. Try and sleep tonight, if you need anything I’ll be just down the hall, that’s my room at the end.”

“Oh, I won’t bother you…”

She waved him away, “Don’t worry about that. Really, if you need anything just come and get me, okay?”

Theon nodded, knowing he never would.

“Well…sleep well, then. You’ll want the light off, I’m assuming?”

“Oh. If it’s not a problem…”

She turned it off. Before she left she adjusted the blankets around him, tucking him in more snugly. It was such a simple but kind gesture, and so unexpected, that he was nearly in tears again.

 _Stupid,_ he thought.

“I’ll be here, I mean it,” she said gently, “Whatever you need.” Then she was gone, turning out the hall light after her.

Theon lay in the darkness, trying to fight off sleep long enough to make some sense of what was happening. Part of him still screamed that this wasn’t right, that it was all a trap or a mistake.

 _People are not kind,_ he thought. It made no sense. Yet he was here, being taken in and taken care of by a complete stranger, one who somehow knew where he came from and helped him despite it. It didn’t make sense, he thought as he rolled over, but it was happening all the same. It was probably best, at this point, to simply accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a question for you guys: is their dynamic realistic enough? I'm trying to strike a careful balance between awkwardness and intimacy between people who barely know each other. It's a super weird situation for both of them and I'm wondering if it's okay or if there's anything I can do to make it better. Constructive critique/advice is appreciated, just don't roast me too hard :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back. Here we have a decent mix of fluff and angst, also featuring dogs and Theon not knowing what a smartphone is.  
> Thanks to suburbanbeatnik for beta-ing, I was glad for you help!  
> Also I should note this chapter has several mentions of dead parents, just in case that's something that bothers people. If there's anything else you feel like I should tag let me know

Theon woke sometime in the middle of the night, feeling very cold and very sick.

Almost immediately he began coughing hoarsely, chest burning. It hurt to move, but when he stretched out the cold got worse, the deep chill feeling like it was _under_ his skin, refusing to budge no matter how tightly he wrapped the covers around him.

His ears hurt. The place where his nose met his forehead hurt. His eyes hurt, even when closed. His entire head was a tight ball of pain.

Teeth chattering, he pulled the blankets even tighter and desperately tried to make his muddled brain shut off. It wasn’t working. For a long time he lay awake, too cold and miserable to sleep. The thought of asking Sansa for help came into his mind and was immediately pushed away. He had been through far worse, there wasn’t any point in troubling her.  

Eventually, he didn’t know how long, the warmth began to creep back into his bones a little, and only then did he manage to drift off.

 

It seemed like no time at all before he was pulled from the depths of sleep by something _wet_ against his face. He startled awake, disoriented. All he saw at first was the edge of a soft quilt just inches from his nose, but beside that, next to the couch, was an _animal_.

He lay still, heart beating very fast, watching it. A wolf, that’s what it looked like. It licked his face again, and he flinched away.

“Sansa…?” he called uncertainly. His voice sounded ragged and weak. There was a light on in the hall, he hoped very much that this meant she was already awake.

Sansa appeared in the doorway looking, thankfully, like she had been up for a while. It might have been the light, but she looked strangely blurred around the edges.

“What’s wrong?” she said, “Is everything okay?”

“There’s…” he gestured feebly to the side.

Her eyes fell on the wolf – no, it was too small for that, wasn’t it? – And she looked mildly annoyed. “Come here, Lady, don’t bother him.”

It whined, pawing at Theon’s arm. He jumped, but it didn’t seem like it was trying to hurt him.

“I know, I know, it’s a new person. All very exciting. Leave him alone, I’ll feed you in a minute.”

She shooed the dog out of the room and came over to stand by him. “Sorry,” she said, “That’s just Lady, she won’t hurt you. She was just being friendly. I can keep her out of here though, if dogs make you nervous.”

“It’s alright. She’s just…very _big._ I thought she was a wolf.”

Sansa laughed. “Not quite. I’m not sure what she is, some kind of mix. Probably a husky and something else.”

“Oh.”

A wave of dizziness hit him and he shut his eyes, waiting for it to pass. The room outside his eyelids lightened a little; Sansa had turned on the lamp. He heard her voice from outside, though privately he wished she wouldn’t talk. It made his head ache to try and pay attention.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not bad.” Talking hurt even more than listening.

“And how are you feeling?”

“I…I’ve been better.”

“Do you want something for you throat? You sound terrible.”

He let his eyes open, let his gaze drift over to her. It was the red hair that caught his eye; he tried to just focus on that but her image kept _jumping,_ he’d look away for a second and couldn’t find it again.

What had she just asked him?

“I don’t – what?”

“Your throat. I can give you medicine for that, if you want.”

She looked worried, or sad, or something else; Theon realized how exhausting it was to try and _read_ everyone all the time…

“Alright. If you think it’s…that’s fine…”

It didn’t feel right, even now, to accept help from her. But his throat did hurt quite a lot.

He dozed, not quite falling asleep, waiting for her to come back. It seemed a very long time. He could hear footsteps, and something like water running, but she didn’t come. Just as he was starting to worry, she came back, holding a mug and a bottle of something.

She poured an amount of dark liquid from the bottle into a little plastic cup, measuring it.

“You’ll have to sit up to drink this, do you think you can do that?”

He nodded, though he really didn’t think he could. The world began to tilt as soon as he pushed himself up, he closed his eyes briefly but the spinning didn’t stop even then. He leaned against the rough fabric of the sofa, shivering a little.

Sansa handed him what he assumed was medicine, though he still eyed it suspiciously before drinking it. The stuff had a bitter, oddly familiar taste; something he half remembered from childhood. Maybe he’d taken it once before, a long time ago.

“Here,” said Sansa, handing him the mug as well, “It’s tea. I made it with lots of honey and lemon, that’s how my mum used to make it when one of us got sick. It might help.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, I _wanted_ to. And I’m having some myself, if it makes you feel any better.”

Theon took a sip of the hot, sweet tea, trying to remember the last time he’d had any. Or trying _not_ to remember. He didn’t know, anymore, which would be better or easier to do; let the memories from _before_ leech back into his mind, or pretend they’d never existed.

The warmth of it did soothe the raggedness of his throat a little, though swallowing still wasn’t exactly pleasant. And the heat made his nose run. He tried to hide that as they sat drinking together, Sansa now with her own tea as well, not talking but simply sitting quietly. The quiet might have been comforting, but Theon found it disturbing. He was here with this other person, sitting here with her, something ought to happen, wasn’t that right? There couldn’t just be silence and tea drinking, she was going to _do_ something, or say something, that would change things…something _difficult_ had to happen. He half expected her to want to _test_ him.

But she did not. She sat drinking her tea, feet tucked up under her. It wasn’t right. If he had known what to say, he would have broken the silence himself just to make the tension leave. He decided to just focus on the tea, and ignore everything else until he needed not to.

 _Why did she help me?_ Was a thought that often came back to his mind. No matter what she said, no matter how much she told him it was simply because she was trying to help someone in need (whose situation she _understood,_ however inexplicable that was), he could not help but feel that there would be something else. Nothing ought to come this easily. He would have to pay, somehow, and the longer she dragged out his discovery of how that would happen the more anxious he got.

Eventually he truly could not stand the quiet. He needed to say something, if only to distract himself from his bleak thoughts.

“It…it is morning, isn’t it?” he said. It was a very lame conversation starter, but he could think of nothing else. And the dull lamplight in the room was the same as before, he couldn’t be sure what time it was.

Sansa looked up from her cup. “It is. Ten-ish. You slept for a while, that’s good.”

Theon glanced around the room, noticing for the first time that there were no windows. This made him a little uneasy.

She saw him looking. “I know it’s a bit gloomy down here. I’ve got a window in my room, and there’s one in the kitchen, but the rest of the place gets pretty dark. Especially in the winter. I’d hoped having lots of lamps would make it a little more cheerful, but it doesn’t seem to do much.”

“So this is…this is your house? You live here?”

Sansa smiled. “I do.”

“By yourself?”

“Well, there’s Michelle upstairs, but I don’t see her too often. And she’s been away for Christmas anyway.”

“Who?”

“Oh – I’m a tenant. So it’s not _really_ my house, Michelle owns the place, I’m just renting out this floor.”

“Oh.”

He remembered something, suddenly. The night he had come…

“If she isn’t home…who left the light on outside at night?”

“I did,” said Sansa, “She doesn’t usually like it on, but I think it’s more cheerful.”

He was very grateful that she did.

“What do you do, here alone?” he asked, “Do you… do you work?” What else did people do?

Her face fell a little. “I had a job,” she said, “And then I _didn’t_ have a job, and now I’m just…looking for something else. I was at an interview, actually, the day I met you, I was coming back from one. I haven’t heard back from them yet, but it went well. At least I think so.”

It took Theon a moment to remember what all that meant. “I hope so.”

She gave a small smile. “So, to answer your question, I’m not really _doing_ much at all at the moment. I’ve been feeling a bit useless actually.”

How this person could ever feel useless was beyond him, but he didn’t really know what to say to make her think she wasn’t.

“Do you have a family?”

She nodded, a little hesitantly. “I do. They’re all a bit spread out at the moment, though. I was hoping to see at least one of them for Christmas, but I don’t know if it’ll happen or not. Everyone’s too busy with their own lives to be busy with mine as well.”

She must have noticed how bitter she sounded because she gave another smile, though this one didn’t linger. “Sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t be upset, I know they’ve got their own stuff going on, I just feel a bit…left out, I suppose.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause. Theon drank more of his tea just to give him something to do. It was very, very strange to be sitting here with her, talking about her family and jobs and Christmas, all things he hadn’t exactly _forgotten,_ but had hardly thought about in years. It was equally strange that she was telling him all this when he knew nothing about her, nothing about her family or her life, yet she was saying things he felt he ought to understand, and didn’t, completely. He was having a bit of a hard time keeping up. But still he found himself _curious;_ for the first time in a long time, he wanted to know about someone, wanted to learn more about them. There was still so much he wanted to ask, but he feared he was being intrusive.

“Don’t you have…friends?” he asked uncertainly. To him, _friend_ still described a classmate, a person who you made mischief with and gossiped to and who you would partner with in school projects.  He hadn’t had many of them himself, and his father had had none. He had never seen many adults in friendships with each other, real ones, not a formal politeness  between colleagues.  _Did_ adults have friends, in the same way children did? Were they expected to?

Sansa did not seem confused by the question, so he assumed it wasn’t a strange one. “I had some,” she said, “Once. None of us have seen each other in a while.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. “We just lost touch.”

 _She’s lonely,_ he thought. He knew all about loneliness. He had grown up lonely.

“What about you?” she asked, “Is your family…?”

Theon did not want to think about his family. Trying to make himself forget them had been hard. Making himself remember them was harder.

“I don’t know where they are,” he said slowly, “I have a sister. And a father. But I don’t know…they don’t know where I am. I don’t think they know if I’m alive at all. I don’t know if they care.”

 _Yara would care,_ said a small voice in his head. He did not know how truthful that voice was. To his horror, he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“I’m very, very sorry.”

Theon tried to swallow the lump, and failed. “It’s alright. It’s been…a very long time.” He thought for the first time of asking, finding out what the exact date was, of really knowing how long…but he decided he did not want to know. Not just yet.

Sansa was looking at him with a pitying expression. He didn’t like that. He had not asked to be pitied.

“You said there was your father and your sister, is your mother…?”

“Dead,” he said shortly, “I can’t remember much about her.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused. “Mine is too. And dad.”  She looked like she wanted to elaborate further, but decided not to.

The silence grew uncomfortable again. Theon sipped his tea, which in turn was losing its comfort. It was starting to just make him feel hot, and a bit sick. He didn’t think he could finish it.

Sansa gave a small laugh. “This is turning into a bit of a gloomy conversation,” she said.

“A bit.” There wasn’t much he could think to say anymore. He really did feel ill; the bone – deep weariness was coming back, making him not want to talk or think about anything at all.

“Are you finished with that?” she asked abruptly.

“What?”  The tea. Right. “Oh. I think so. Sorry…I should have drunk all of it…”

She took it back from him, “Don’t be sorry. Hey… I’m not going to – to get angry at you for things, you know that, don’t you? You don’t need to apologize for everything, not for little things like that.”

He knew that. He _should_ know that, but no matter what he did, sometimes he continued to think he was still at the Lab. It followed him everywhere, even here with her.

Sansa took the tea away and he sat there with his eyes shut, trying to ignore the swimmy feeling in his head. His left arm twinged unpleasantly through it all.

“Theon?”

He opened his eyes, startled by the use of his name. She was back, looking at him with concern. “Are you alright? You’re very pale.”

“I’m…I’m not…” he struggled to keep focused on her. “I’m sorry…I really don’t feel well. I thought I could…thought I’d be alright, but I’m not…”

She touched his forehead, her own creasing with worry.

“You’re really hot,” she said, “Lie down. You’ll feel better if you rest.”

He didn’t point out that it was still morning, and he’d only been awake for less than an hour.

Sansa piled the blankets back on top of him, which somehow felt comforting despite the layer of heat prickling beneath his skin. If he just lay still and kept his eyes closed the world didn’t rock so much.

“Do you want anything?” came her voice, somewhere very close and very far off at once. He shook his head, already half asleep. Her hand was against his cheek, and he did not pull away. In his tired, hazy state, he found he _wanted_ her there.

He meant to say _thank you,_ or even _I’m sorry,_ but what he ended up saying was “Please, don’t go.”

She didn’t. At first he assumed, in the small part of his brain that was still awake, she would ignore his childish pleading. Instead he felt the soft weight of her sitting down beside him on the sofa, one hand gently stroking his hair. None of it was right, none of it was _normal_ – but still he did not pull away.

“I’m here,” he heard her say softly, “I’m right here. I’ll stay.”

The last thing he felt was the warmth of her touch.

His dreams were vivid and disturbing. He saw his sister standing by a glowing lamp, the only light in the dense woods through which he ran. The more he tried to reach her, the further away she seemed to be…he tried to call out to her but his voice was impossibly weak. Then she turned into a giant wolf leaning over him, speaking in a slow, deep voice, so slow it was unbearable.

 He came partly awake to see Lady, Sansa’s big wolflike dog, sitting beside him on the floor and watching him curiously. This time he was too tired, his mind too fuzzy, to be afraid. He rolled over, trying to find a cool place on his pillow. The blankets around him seemed to burn against his skin; he pushed them off but it hardly made any difference. He was so hot the air around him wavered, so much he felt dizzy just looking at it…but having his eyes closed was worse, then the heat seeped into them so badly he was half convinced they would melt inside his head.

Eventually he slept again, then woke and slept, woke and slept, for what felt like an eternity. All day he was feverish and miserable, and at the same time trying not to reveal to Sansa exactly how bad he felt, when she came in to check on him.

She looked very strange, sometimes, flitting and blurred around the edges, like a shadow. Her hair was like a bright red flame. It made him think, absurdly, of the shallow fires he’d huddled around in that abandoned lot, and he wondered if he might still be there. But the room was too warm, too bright, to be that place…and then he remembered the house, with the glowing light out front.

Her words all blurred into each other, making them impossible to understand, so he would just nod and shake his head automatically, knowing on some level the answers to whatever she was asking. How many times had she come to see him today? Was this the first, the third? _Was_ it even the same day as when he had woken up with the dog pawing at him, or a different one? He didn’t know the answer, and didn’t want to ask, so he let the strange dreams creep back into his mind once again.

Once he was so cold he thought he might actually freeze to death right there on the sofa. He wanted to call out to Sansa, but he didn’t know where she was, if she’d left him alone here or not, if she was ever coming back. He curled up tight, burying himself in covers.  Every time he closed his eyes he was back on that cement floor, huddling for warmth beside a rattling heater, or worse, shaking in a dark cell awaiting a new round of testing.  

And then he felt a soft, heavy weight on his legs, moving up the sofa towards his head.

“Sansa?” he muttered with his cracked voice, thinking disjointedly that it was her. But when he opened his eyes it was Lady again, standing almost on top of him. One of her heavy paws dug into his ribs uncomfortably. He thought of pushing her away, but was too tired. She licked his cheek, and flopped down beside him, curling up in the space between him and the back of the couch. At first he tensed at the feeling of a large, hairy body next to him, but eventually his gratefulness for the extra warmth took over. The next time he woke up she was still there, peering at him with one large amber eye.

Sansa did return at some point. Theon was only half awake, but he heard her footsteps come into the room he was in. He felt her hand against his cheek, and then a little while later another blanket being tucked around him, a cold cloth damp against his skin.

 _People are not kind,_ he heard the Manager’s voice say, clearly as if he stood in the corner of that very room.

It wasn’t just his sister that he dreamed of as he slept. He dreamed of _them_ as well. He dreamed he was at the Lab, that he had really been back there all along. They prodded him with electric rods, and prodded and prodded until he cried in pain. He thought they had found him, here in Sansa’s house, they stormed through the front door and took him and her both…he distinctly heard his own voice saying that he was sorry, over and over again, but nobody listened. Sometimes it was very hard to tell what was real, and what was from his dreams.

He thought he talked to her, when she came, if she was really there at all, but didn’t know exactly what he was saying, and that frightened him the most.

His fever must have broken at some point, because the next time Sansa came to wake him he could think somewhat properly. He was covered in sweat, exhausted and feeble, but his head felt clearer than it had in a long while. It was her anxious face he saw bending over him, clear and sharp, and not the Manager. When she tried to get him to drink, his arm shook so badly he could barely lift the glass.

“What time is it?” he croaked as he lay back down, still trembling.

“Late,” she said gently. He wanted to ask how late, but was asleep again before he could.

 

The next morning was better. He was sore and groggy for a long time, and too weak to move very much at all, but he felt neither freezing cold or burning with heat, so it was an improvement. He was silent as she took his temperature and made him drink more water, keeping his eyes trained on her face. She had, he noticed, a pretty face. Something told him that it wasn’t right for him to notice this, but he did all the same.

The days continued to pass, for him, in varying degrees of discomfort. Sometimes he felt alright, well enough to sit up at least, and drink more of the tea Sansa was so insistent on giving him. A couple times she brought him soup, or a piece of toast. It wasn’t much food, and he was hardly hungry, but it tasted better than anything he had eaten in weeks.

Other times he felt so ill he could do nothing more than lie very still on the couch and try to sleep. When it was very bad, she stayed with him. Sometimes she talked to him softly, not expecting him to respond, letting the words drift through his dreams and form the edges of them. And sometimes she was silent, sitting beside him with one soft hand on his shoulder or his forehead.

Even when he was feeling better, he couldn't do much other than rest and drink his tea. They would talk more, though. Or rather, she talked. He usually didn’t say very much in return – his voice was almost gone – but he lay there and listened to her; it was a distraction from all that was going on in his head. 

She would tell him about her life, her family. Though she told these stories cheerfully enough, they often had an air of being distinctly in the past, the happiest times of her life gone and finished. It was very rare that she actually spoke about what she was doing _now._ There were times she would go out on errands during the day, and Theon would wait anxiously for her until she returned. Sometimes then she would tell him about what she did that day, where she went, but it was never personal. Never touched with the same quality as when she spoke about her family.

Despite his curiosity, Theon did not ask her very much apart from what she herself told him. He didn’t want to pry. Sansa had been kind to him – very kind – the past few days, but she was still in all respects a stranger. So he accepted whatever she chose to tell and asked for no more.

Both her parents, as she had told him before, had died. He did not ask how. She had a younger sister, Arya, and brother, Bran. Both were in school. There was another brother too, older than her, named Jon, who lived with ‘a girlfriend,’ that wasn’t mentioned very much elsewhere.

“Sort of a brother,” she said about him, “It’s complicated.”

The younger one, as he gathered, was smart but a little distant. He was in a wheelchair. The sister she seemed closest to, and talked about often with a mixture of love and exasperation. It was a similar tone, Theon noticed with a bit of a jolt in his heart, that his own sister had used when talking to him.

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that she should tell him about her family when he had said almost nothing about his own. But he wasn’t ready. Not to talk about his father; at worst violently angry, at best indifferent, or his mother and the cancer that had taken her before Theon was old enough to even know what was happening. Hardest of all would be Yara, the one he loved the most, the only one in the world he thought might love him. She wasn’t a perfect sister, and she knew that. Just as he was not a perfect brother. But she had been all he had in the world for a long time.

Even though he knew it was impossible, he often wondered about trying to find her again.

One day he was startled awake by the sound of a door opening. His heart raced as he twisted around searching for the source of the noise, once again temporarily forgetting where he was. He relaxed a little when he saw a flash of red hair in the hallway…of course, it was only Sansa, coming back from wherever she had gone off to. He closed his eyes again, against the dull but constant pounding in his head. That morning he had woken up hurting everywhere, and hadn’t bothered to stay awake for long after. He’d had a mind to sleep all through the day, but things kept waking him up; whether it was a car outside, or Lady padding through the room and breathing heavily, or his own bones aching. It seemed that this was just how it would _be_ for him now. He was growing used to it; the pain and coughing and chills…he now felt he shouldn’t have taken for granted all those years when it hadn’t been possible for him to be ill.

 _It’s better than being back there,_ he thought, whenever he felt particularly terrible. But even that idea was losing its power.

Sansa came into the room, unwinding a scarf from around her neck. Her long hair hung in a braid over her shoulder, slightly damp. Her face was flushed from the cold, and she looked more cheerful than Theon had seen her before.

“It’s snowing,” she said, “Hard. I heard someone at the shop saying it’ll be the most we’ve gotten in years.”

She had an air of almost childlike excitement about this.

“Wait, I took a picture, I want to show you…”

Theon watched as she pulled _something_ out of her bag…it took him a moment to realize what it might be.

“Is that a cell phone?” he asked in a voice that was nearly inaudible.

“What? Oh…yeah, this is what they look like now. Sorry, I keep forgetting…” she trailed off, looking slightly awkward. Kept forgetting he was used to almost nothing that was part of the current world, was what she had meant to say. She took her pictures on her phone? Of course it wasn’t impossible, but didn’t most people use cameras? He felt like an old man, or someone suddenly hurtled into the future.

“Here,” she said, turning the wide screen to him. After a moment he realized the picture was of her front walkway, covered in a thin blanket of snow. The first thing his eyes went to was the light out front, not lit during the day. If it hadn’t been for that light…

He nodded, not wanting to talk very much. “It’s…it’s nice.” He started to cough again, painfully and raggedly. Sansa’s hand went to his back, a warm reassurance as his lungs shredded themselves into pieces. She kept it there when the fit was over, gently rubbing his back in circles and murmuring soothingly. He was so tired, tired of all of this…

He looked up blearily and saw her worried face, and hated it all even more. She didn’t deserve this, shouldn’t have to look after him and worry…

“I’m okay,” he said hoarsely, “I am.”

“No you’re not,” she said, “I know you feel terrible, I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do.”

She had said the same thing to him earlier, when she found him on the street. Why did she always feel she needed to do _more,_ when what she was actually doing was already far more than he could have dreamed of?

“You’ve… you’ve done enough. You’re enough,” he said.

Her face was soft in the lamplight. She was enough, he thought. She deserved to hear more, but that was all he could think to say.

“What’s the worst thing?” she asked quietly, “What…what hurts the most? Is there anything I can do, at all?”

Theon closed his eyes. It wasn’t easy to answer. Because she _couldn’t_ help, not really, not with the worst of it all.

“Dreams,” he said finally, “I can’t…I can never sleep. I couldn’t before, either. Outside. Always, I’m dreaming, I’m remembering…things.”

“What things? Tell me.”

It was an offer, not an order. He took a shuddering breath. “I see…I see _those people_. They’re in my head, always in my head. The things they did – the things I did – the tests, the experiments…I was away for so long.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him. He knew that look by now; it was the same one she always had before she would touch him gently or tuck his blankets around him. But she didn’t do any of those things now, just went on looking like that. He continued.

“Sometimes,” he said, trying to keep his eyes locked on her, “Sometimes even now it doesn’t seem real that I’m here. I can’t really be here, it’s not right, it shouldn’t be real…I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and be back _there._ Sometimes… I look at you, and I think you’re one of _them._ I can’t tell, it all gets blurred together…”

He felt tears burn behind his eyes and slip down his cheeks. This time Sansa did touch him, brushing away his damp hair and shushing him gently.

“Why?” he said desperately, “All those people…why is it me that’s here?”

“Because you got lucky,” she said softly, “Sometimes people do. I’m very glad you did. I’m glad anyone was able to.”

He shook his head, tears still flowing freely. “It’s not right,” he said, “I…I _belonged_ there. They kept saying they needed me, that it was my home, that it was my purpose…I didn’t have anything else to live for. And they were right. I got out but there’s…there’s nothing. I had nothing before, I have nothing now…at least there  I _was_ something, I hated it, every minute, I was afraid all the time, but I _was something_ …”

Sansa bent and put her arms around him. It startled him so much that he almost stopped crying. For a moment he panicked; what did he do? Did she want him to hug back? It had been so long…he’d forgotten what you _did…_

Before he could come up with a clear answer, she had let go of him. The warmth of her arms stayed, though, and the smell of her. Lemons, he realized, she smelled like lemons. Had she always?

“Look at me,” she said gently, fiercely. He looked at her; her eyes, bright blue. “You are safe. That’s what matters. Those people back there…they weren’t good people. They hurt you, I don’t care what else they did, I know that they hurt people. You will find something here – I don’t know what it will be, but you’re alive and you’re safe, and you will find something. It will work out, somehow. Once you’re better, I’ll help you. We’ll talk all about it.”

She handed him a tissue from the box he’d been keeping by the couch. “Here,” she said. He wiped his nose, mopped away the tears.

 “Sansa,” he said miserably, “I don’t think I’m going to get better. It’s been days, and I’ve only gotten worse…”

To his surprise, she gave a small smile. “You will,” she said, “I promise. It hasn’t really been that long, it might just have to get worse before it gets better.”

“It just…It just feels like it won’t ever end. I think…I think I’m dying.” The thought had been stewing in his mind for days, darkening everything else. Voicing it aloud made the fear even more real.

Her mouth twitched. With horror he realized she was _laughing_ at him. “You’re not dying. I know you’re not dying. You’ve been –inside –for so long, you haven’t been exposed to viruses and germs and things. So if you’re sick, it’s bound to hit you harder than normal because you aren’t used to it. I’m sure you feel awful, but it won’t kill you. I promise.”

“You…you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He swallowed, still very unsure, but a little embarrassed. True, they had given him regular injections at the Lab, ensuring he couldn’t catch diseases. Even a cold was something he hadn’t had in a very long time. She could be right…but he still _wasn’t_ getting better, and it worried him. Vaguely he remembered his mother, getting sicker and sicker until she wasted away…

“Can you…can you promise me, even if I get worse, even if it seems like…like I really won’t get well…don’t call a doctor. Please, promise me…they’ll know where I came from…”

He wasn’t sure, wasn’t completely certain they would know him, but just in case…he couldn’t let anyone examine him, if they found out…

“I won’t,” said Sansa, “And Theon – look at me – I won’t let you die, alright? I promise you that too. You aren’t getting off that easy. You’re going to live, and have a life, a proper life, do you hear me?”

Theon nodded, looking into those blue eyes, that intense face, and felt a little stunned. She was determined, so determined.

“Good. Now, do you want me to show you more pictures of the snow or not?”

Despite himself, he laughed weakly. It sounded more like a croak. “Alright. If that…if you’d like. But can you just – can you tell me about this, while you’re at it?” he pointed shakily to the phone she held.

She laughed too. “It really isn’t all that exciting.”

“It’s just…different.”

She looked thoughtful. “A lot of things are different. It doesn’t seem like that to me, because I’ve seen it all change. But to you…it must be really weird. I forget, sometimes.”

“How…how much is there? To get used to now?”

She laughed. “That depends on who you ask. Some would say quite a lot. But don’t worry; I’ll help you get used to it all.”

Theon felt a smile curve his lips, for the first time in a long while. “That won’t be easy for you.”

“Well, I’ll try my best.” She turned her phone back towards him. “Now. Snow. How long has it been since you’ve seen it heavy like this?”

“I don’t…a long while.”

“Here,” she scrolled through to the next picture. “I took this in town.”

Theon stared at the still image of snow piling up in drifts along the streets, against the shopfronts. It stirred something in him, some memory. He had _liked_ the snow, before. He flicked to the next photo, then the next one, gazing at each one as if he were trying to memorize it. This was the world. This was what he had missed.

He paused before selecting the next photo, glancing at Sansa. These were her pictures. He didn’t want to intrude.

“Go on,” she said, “I took plenty.” She handed her phone to him, letting him look as he liked. He scrolled through all the snow pictures, then went back and looked at them all again. He had missed it, he realized. He had missed _outside._

She let him stay there for a while, quietly watching the captured snow and streetlamps, thinking about the strange, beautiful world he had been thrown back into.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were ROOMMATES (Oh my god they were roommates...)  
> Have some further bonding between these nerds. And some feely feely bits.  
> BTW Yes I know these chapters are getting long af. Are the lengths ok or did you guys like them being shorter? Discuss.

_“Theon?”_

The voice broke through a confused sort of rushing in his ears. He was underwater, waves crashing somewhere far above his head…

 _I’m here,_ he thought, _Please – I’m here, I’m drowning._

He tried to turn, to twist in the icy cold water, and the whole world spun around him wildly. But he’d heard a voice – from where? Someone had called… he was alone, so alone…

There was a sharp pain in his chest, raw and old as though he’d been coughing for ages. Perhaps he had been; the water, the water was in his lungs, freezing them from the inside out... it started up again and he couldn’t breathe, the icy water was _inside_ him.

Somewhere far away was a warm light, being pulled towards and away from him as if it too were caught in a tide. Something else faded into his vision too – a person – and he wasn’t alone.

A _person._ Theon struggled, fought against the pressure of the water, against the tide pulling at his thoughts, trying to keep his focus on just the shape of the person near him. An reaching arm, a warm hand against his cheek…

“Oh, honey…” said the voice. He knew that voice, knew somehow that it belonged to a woman named Sansa, but couldn’t think _how_ he knew that.

A face swam into view above him, a pale, anxious face. “Theon, can you hear me?”

 _I hear you,_ he wanted to say, but couldn’t make the words form properly. She was up there, in that place with the warm lamplight, and he was down here beneath the waves…

Another fit of coughing hit him, shaking his entire frame. He felt a hand against his back, steadying him as the whole world rocked. For a brief moment he wasn’t underwater anymore, but on a couch in a bright room, wrapped in a sweat-soaked blanket.

“Shhh,” the voice said, “That’s alright. That’s okay, hon, you’re okay.”

“I’m drowning,” said another voice, weak and raw-sounding, one he came to realize was his own. “The water - I’m dying…”

Sansa’s face was a light, a beacon. She shouldn’t _glow_ like that, it was too bright…

“You’re not,” she said, “Your temperature’s spiked up again, that’s all. You’re just dreaming. It’s just a bad dream. I’m right here.”

Theon groaned weakly and rolled over, half wherever she was in the light and warmth, half caught in a current of freezing water. Even beneath the waves, her hands were warm and gentle against him.

He forced his eyes open, keeping them on her, always on her. If he could see her still…

For a very long time he kept them on her, as her voice faded in and out saying soft things, soothing things. The waves pulled at him, dragging him beneath them and spitting him back out again. The only constant was Sansa. Her words slipped through his mind, he felt her soft hand holding his own, the other against his forehead. She was beautiful. He thought about telling her that, and might very well have, but still she did not leave his side. He clung to her face and voice like a drowning man clings to a raft in the midst of a violent storm at sea.

 

The first time he woke it was to the feeling of slightly damp fabric beneath his head. There was a dull ache in his chest, and his eyes felt gummed shut. No sound, just his own slightly wheezing breath. No waves. The warm covers against him seemed impossibly heavy; he could not move a muscle.

He knew where he was, that was new. There was no confusion, no momentary panic or disorientation. The sofa, Sansa’s house. Nowhere else. There had been dreams…he’d seen her face, and his sister’s, and the Manager’s sometimes, all tangled together, voices blending in a confused howl. And water, so much water…

A brief chill hit him at the memory of the cold, the rushing. He’d been drowning, and so very cold…but it was all gone. He was warm now, and dry, except for the film of sweat on his skin. He was lying down, that was all. Not drowning. Not alone. Just very tired.

Sleep took him again before he had a chance to open his eyes.

 

The second time, it was a noise that woke him.

Something tore, ripped open loudly, the sound invading oblivion and pulling him sharply to consciousness. His eyes snapped open immediately. He was on his back, eyes turned to the ceiling. Such a dense weight of exhaustion lay upon him that at first he could not turn his head towards the sound.

When he finally managed to, he saw Sansa sitting on the floor, legs folded. In front of her was a large piece of colorful paper, brightly patterned. She took a pair of scissors and cut away a strip, making the shredding sound once again.

He watched her for a while, too tired to do much else. She had a box next to her, which she carefully placed in the center of the paper and began folding into it. Her long hair was loose, floating down along the sides of her face like a curtain of red. There were dark rings around her eyes, as if she had not slept.

Theon tried to speak, and no sound came out. With some difficulty, he cleared his throat, tried again, saying the only thing he could think of to say.

“What is that?” Speaking made it feel like he had swallowed broken glass.

Sansa jumped, eyes widening when she saw him awake. She put down what she was doing and came to stand over him, brushing the hair from his eyes and looking down at him anxiously.

“Hey,” she said softly, “There you are. Can you hear me? Do you… know where you are right now?”

He nodded, mildly disturbed that she had to ask. Her face relaxed a little, but a slight crease remained between her brows. She sat by him.

“I’ve been worried sick. You had…a really rough night.”

“I know.”

Her hand continued its brushing through his hair, almost absent mindedly. “Your fever’s gone. For good, I think, this time. You should be feeling better.”

“I am. Much better.” He was too tired to move an inch, and very sore, but that was the worst of it. His head felt clear, the pressure behind his eyes gone. The blankets around him were damp with sweat.

Sansa smiled a little, though she looked worried still. “It’s nearly four. You’ve been asleep all day.”

All day? Had it really been that long? Everything seemed sped up, his last clear memory was of going to sleep early last night, a horrible headache pounding behind his eyes.

Grimly, he wondered about the other, fainter memories he had. Most concerned Sansa. She had looked different sometimes, as if she had a soft sort of light around her. But that gone now; he saw only pale, tired looking young woman. Those other times he guessed had been when his fever was very high. Everything had looked strange, he remembered, almost dreamlike. Had he spoken to Sansa, while in a state like that? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. What might he have told her, when he was too out of it to know what he was saying? He did not want to know, and did not want her to have to tell him.

“It’s a good thing,” she said, misreading his slightly embarrassed look. “You needed the rest badly. You’ll still need it, even now that you’re starting to feel better.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flickered back to Sansa’s project, the pile of colorful paper on the carpet. He cleared his throat again, words coming a little easier this time. “What are you working on?”

Sansa glanced back. “Oh – I’m just wrapping a present for my sister. I know it’s late, but she’s been incredibly unhelpful when I’ve asked her what she wanted. I needed to get it done, but I didn’t want to leave you alone…I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he lied.

“Do you want anything? You should at least have water, you’re probably dehydrated…”

It was true, his throat felt like sandpaper. “Okay.”

Slowly, with her help, he pushed himself up, detangling his arms from the nest of blankets. He wasn’t as lightheaded as he’d been, but his limbs ached and felt like rubber. His hands trembled badly when he took the cup she gave him; she had to wrap her own over them as he drank to stop him from spilling water all over himself. A small, primal part of him panicked at the idea of being so weak; anything could happen to him. But he managed to shake it away. It was only Sansa.

Just the simple act of sitting up and drinking left him shaking and feeble. Sansa noticed. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, looking sympathetic. “Took a lot out of you, didn’t it? I thought it might. You’ll probably be tired for a while, but at least you’re starting to feel better.”

“I should get up soon, I suppose…”

“Take it slow. Just…do things in your own time. You don’t want to make yourself worse.”

Theon nodded vaguely, half glad she wasn’t going to make him leave right away. For he knew that was what was coming eventually – he had never expected to stay here long. And if he was starting to get well like she said…it was only a matter of time.

Sansa moved a little closer to him on the sofa. He regretted how tired she looked, knowing it had been from staying awake to watch over him. She shouldn’t have…she hadn’t needed to…

“How does your arm feel?” she asked, “Can I take a look?”

He nodded and pushed back his shirt. The gash had stopped bleeding a while ago, already she had removed the bandages. Her hands were very gentle as she examined the shallow red line that was left. Theon noticed the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way strands of hair floated across her forehead. The more he looked at her, the more he found himself noticing these small things about her. He hadn’t at all at first, but more and more often he realized he was doing it.

 _She saved me,_ he thought. If it had not been for her he might have frozen to death, he might have died of a fever or been caught by the Managers and dragged back. He’d known for a while, but now the truth of it sunk in and he felt his heart tighten.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Sansa frowned, blue eyes flicking back up to him. “For what?”

“For…for everything. I – I wouldn’t be alive, if you hadn’t helped me. I wouldn’t be, you know it’s true. I can’t think of anything else to say…thank you.”

She said nothing at first, giving only a small, sad smile. One hand went to smooth his hair a bit awkwardly. “Well…it was you that found me,” she said, “Thank yourself as well.”

“You didn’t need to do all this. I’ll never…I’ll never be able to repay you…”

“Don’t try. What you can do, at least for now, is let me help. Just trust me. That’s all I want – your trust in me.”

“I trust you already,” he said quietly, and found he meant it. He had not been able to say those words and mean them in a very long time.

The hand on his shoulder tightened a little.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” she said, “I know how – how hard that must be. I’m glad I could give it to you.”

Theon was glad of it too.

Sansa looked away, as if embarrassed. She pulled her hand back from the half – healed cut. “This is looking good,” she said, “It’s mending nicely. I knew it wasn’t too deep, once it stopped bleeding it would heal fairly quickly.”

She sat back, twisting her hands nervously. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I can get you some soup, if you like. There’s still some left.”

“That’s alright,” he said, “I’m not really hungry yet.” There was no doubt he felt far better than he had in a while, but food still didn’t sound very appealing. Even if it was her chicken soup – another family recipe – that she swore by as the best sick person food there was. She’d managed to coax him into eating some once or twice over the past few days, and even with his withered appetite he’d had to admit it tasted good.

“Sansa?” he said, a thought coming to him suddenly, “Could I…can I maybe take a shower?”

It felt mildly embarrassing to ask, but the new film of sweat on his skin had reminded him of how long it had been since he’d been able to wash properly.

“Oh! Of course, if you’d like. Do you mean right now?”

“If that’s alright.”

“It is…I’m just not sure about you being upright for that long, maybe you should rest a little first.”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

 “Tell you what – once you’re in there, hand me your clothes and I’ll throw them in the wash. They should dry by the time you’re out, it’ll be good for you to have something clean.”

“I – alright. Thank you.”

Slowly, uncertainly, he unwrapped the blanket and pushed himself up from the couch. Almost immediately he realized Sansa had perhaps been right; he swayed dangerously and had to clutch the back of the couch for support, knees trembling. His muscles screamed in protest at this sudden usage.

Sansa’s arm went under his own. “Slowly,” she said, “Slowly. Just hold onto me. You’re white as a ghost, are you okay?”

He nodded, fighting to regain his balance. Her hold on him tightened.

“I’ve got you. Just lean on me until we get there.” 

He stumbled, rather than walked. All the time Sansa walked beside him, arm around his waist. There had been a couple times before, when he’d needed the bathroom, and she’d guided him to the door just as she was doing now. Only vague pieces of those times stood out in his memory now, mostly her soft words of reassurance and a dull pounding in his head. But she’d been there. He knew she’d been there.

“Right,” she said when they reached the bathroom door, “You just tell me when you’re ready to hand me your clothes. And for the shower – turn the knob left for hot, right for cold, alright? Don’t drown yourself.”

A small smile crossed his face. “I won’t. Thank you.”

He shut the door behind him, leaning shakily against the sink for support. The short walk had tired him so badly he almost regretted his request. His knuckles stood out white, the skin that stretched over them scratched and dirty. The scars from barbed wire and rough gravel from long ago were beginning to fade, leaving only white patches on his palms.

 For a long time he looked at his hands, at the pale sheet of skin pulled over muscles and bones and tendons, old grains of dirt and dust embedded in the find lines. Those hands had seen more in a month, had done more, than they had in years. How many years had it been? More than five. Ten? More than that? In the monotony of his life at the Lab, it had been nearly impossible to keep track. He had tried at first, but eventually he had given up.

 Slowly, hesitantly, Theon raised his head to the cracked mirror that hung above the sink.

A stranger stared back at him. A stranger with his eyes, his nose, the shape of his face. There had been times – not many, but some – when he had been able to catch a glimpse of his reflection in a metal table, or the back of a door, not enough to really see the details but enough to remind himself of what he looked like. But he could not remember when the last time had been. How old was he now? Likely – hopefully – not more than thirty, but the haggard face staring back at him could be any age.

He understood, now, part of why Sansa seemed so worried when she looked at him. He looked a mess.

There was almost no color in his face, except for the slightly red rims of his eyes, which in turn looked larger and wilder than he remembered, and circled with grey shadows. He was very thin, almost gaunt. A faint shadow lay along his jaw, along with a yellowing bruise. His forehead was bruised too, scratched and grazed along one side where he had been shoved against the alley wall. Other small cuts and scrapes marked his face and neck, half healed. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Sansa, having this sickly, wild looking creature appear at her front door without warning and beg for her help. She would have had every right to turn him away onto the streets.

The one thing about his appearance he did not find unnerving was his hair; in that it was coming back. They had cut it very short when he had first arrived, so that it was nearly shaved off entirely. But it hadn’t been cut in a while by the time he left, and now that he’d been away for even longer it had had a chance to grow. It wasn’t long, now, still not much more than what it had been, but the difference was enough. Enough to remember  he had left, for good. He would never go back.

 _That’s me,_ he thought, forcing himself to look at the face in front of him. _That’s Theon Greyjoy._

He was safe. It had been longer than he could remember since he’d been truly safe. It would take a good deal of getting used to.

In the narrow shower stall, he let the warm water run over him for a long time. Let the heat seep into his bones as it hadn’t in so long. It helped to ease the various sore spots across his body, and the hotter it was the cleaner he felt. For weeks he’d lived in dirt and dust and snow, now he was determined to be _clean._

He hadn’t realized how thin he was, or how many half faded bruises covered his chest and arms. Once again he felt a rush of gratitude towards Sansa; he was so much better off with her than he ever would have been otherwise. Sansa…so much she had done for him. More than he possibly could have asked for. She would not need to do any more, now that he was getting stronger. With a pang he realized she would soon come to this conclusion as well. He would have to go, it wasn’t fair to her anymore. And he’d have to be the one to tell her, better that than make her uncomfortable waiting for her to say something. And then what? When he had left…he would have to figure it out for himself. He’d relied on himself for years, what would doing so for a little longer matter?

After a while, the heat of the water and steam began to make him feel lightheaded again. Thinking it wouldn’t be very helpful to Sansa if he passed out in her bathroom, he hastily turned off the shower and stumbled out.

She’d left him a towel, and evidently his clothes weren’t out of the wash just yet so he wrapped himself up in it and shakily sat down on the tile floor. He’d started shivering again, just from his sudden removal from the hot water. But he felt _clean,_ at least.

There was a knock on the door after a couple minutes, and he heard Sansa’s voice from outside.

“I’ve got your clothes. I put them through the dryer for a little bit, they’re nice and warm.”

“Thank you,” he said, getting up and opening the door a crack, “Thank you so much. I’ll be out soon.”

The clothes _were_ warm, and felt far softer than he’d remembered. He still wasn’t used to this; to having someone help him when he could not help himself. And to having soft, warm things. 

It had never been meant to last.

He stepped out of the bathroom and found her waiting for him in the hall.

“Feeling better?” He nodded. “Good. Come back to the living room; I’ve got to finish wrapping my sister’s gift, and you should sit down. I know you say you feel alright, but you still need rest.”

She seemed relatively cheerful, despite her tired appearance. Theon felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if perhaps he could put the moment off. But it would not be right to take advantage of her kindness any longer. It had to be now.

“Sansa,” he said, “I think we should…talk about things.”

Her face fell a little, though she looked resigned, as if she had been preparing herself for this conversation.

“Alright,” she said. She gestured to the room behind her, “Why don’t you come in here?”

He nodded, following into what had to be her bedroom. It was small, painted blue. Like she had said, there was a small window in the far wall giving a view of the white sky outside. She sat on the bed, watching him expectantly. Theon sat down in a chair across from her, nervously fiddling with his hands the same way she often did.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “And I can’t…I can’t take up room in your life any longer. I’m starting to get better now, I should take care of myself. You’ve got a life; you’re trying to work, and have friends, see your family…you shouldn’t have to help me too. I’m not worth all that.”

Sansa looked back at him, expression unreadable. “You think you’re a burden?”

“I _am_ a burden. On you, on your life…” he struggled to find the right words. “You’ve been kind to me. Far kinder than anyone else has in a long time, far kinder than you needed to be. And I’ll always be grateful. But I need to leave now. You know I do.”

He looked away from her, not wanting to meet her eye. “Thank you for all that you’ve done. If I find a way to repay you, I will, I promise.”

“Do you think that your leaving would help me?”

Theon let his gaze turn back to her. There was a subtle fierceness in her face, simmering beneath the surface. She frightened him a little, when she grew intense like this.

“Because it wouldn’t, you know,” she said softly, allowing herself a bitter smile, “You have to understand…you talk about my life as though it’s something precious. To you, it probably is, but to me it really isn’t. Not right now. Right now…I really don’t have anything apart from you. And Lady, of course.”

“Sansa…”

“No – listen.” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t got a job. I haven’t got friends, my family’s scattered all over the place…there’s nothing for me anymore.” She looked away, her eyes somewhere else altogether.  

“I used to do more, you know,” she said, “I had hobbies, I had places to go and people to see, but for the last while it’s all just felt like another chore. I’m not _happy._ It’s been a long time since I’ve been happy.”

Theon frowned, confused. What did it matter, that she had little to do? She was still alive, she was still free. And it was his presence that was making her into a prisoner.

“But surviving isn’t living,” he said quietly, to himself as much as to her.

She looked surprised, but nodded. “That’s right. I’m not living – I don’t know how to live right now. I just…I feel lost.” Her eyes went to him, circling his face. “When you found me…it’s like you _found me_ as well, do you understand?”

Theon nodded hesitantly, startled by the earnestness in her voice. He understood _what_ she was saying, but not why she was saying it.

“This…everything about this has been so mad since the beginning. But it’s almost like it’s woken me up, does that make sense? It’s something, something’s _happening_ in my life and I actually feel like I’m doing something right for once. All this time I’ve been feeling like I can’t do anything – like I can’t control anything that happens in my life – but  I could control this. I could help you.”

Sansa let out a small laugh. “And – don’t take this the wrong way – but meeting you has been the only exciting thing that’s happened to me in years. A part of me thought this would all be a bit of an adventure.”

Theon was not sure what to say to that.

She sighed. “That’s a silly thing to think, I guess. It’s just that…this is all new for me, too. You’re the first person I’ve actually met for a very long time. The first person I’ve met who hasn’t been horrible, anyway.”

He was speechless. It had never occurred to him that she might actually _want_ him to stay, might in some way enjoy his company. The idea of it seemed so impossibly strange. And the fact that part of her was doing this for herself, not just him…it was a surprisingly comforting thought. To know she didn’t see him as a burden.

“I…so…you _want_ me here?”

A faint blush crept up into Sansa’s cheeks. “I don’t want you to feel trapped,” she said softly, “God knows you’ve had enough of that. If you really want to leave…if you think you’d be better out there, then you should go. But if you stay, I’ll be happy you’re here. I _don’t_ think you’re a burden. And if you do leave I want it to be because it’s what _you_ want, not because it’s what you think I want.”

It was almost impossible to believe. She would be _better off_ without him there, didn’t she see that?

“And what – what do you want?”

Inexplicably, Sansa reached over the gap and took his hand. He almost flinched away, but made himself leave his hand where it was. Her fingers were warm and soft against his own scarred skin.

“What I want, right now, is to know you’re safe. You’ve been safe here, haven’t you? We can…we can figure something out together, if you stay. We’ll figure out what to do next. But you’ve been like – like a friend to me. I don’t know if you’d want me to call you that, but it’s true. You’re the closest to a friend I’ve had in ages. So no, I don’t want you to go just yet.”

 _Friend._ Was she his friend? Talking to her, seeing her around, almost felt normal now, that was true. And he felt _alright_ when she was there. She was the only person he knew right now at all, so perhaps she was. Thinking about that made his throat go tight. It had been impossibly long since he’d had anyone to call a friend.

“And you?” she asked, “What do you want?”

What did he want? There was only one thing, really.

“I…I want to be safe,” he said quietly.

“Have you felt safe with me?”

His throat grew tighter. “I have.” There wasn’t any denying it.

“Do you want to stay? If nothing else mattered, if you weren’t thinking about me at all, would you want to stay?”

Theon raised his eyes to her. “I would.”

Her face relaxed into a smile. “Then you will. It’s that simple.”

“But – but- “ it _wasn’t_ that simple, “Am I just going to live here? Just…stay here in your house? How long? Am I _allowed_ to do that?”

She laughed. “Of course you’re allowed. People do it all the time, they have friends stay over, live with them. And I don’t know how long. We’ll have to see.”

“But I don’t…I don’t have anything to give you. I can’t _pay_ you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said quickly, “I don’t expect you to. And it would be Michelle upstairs you would be paying anyway, if it came to that.”

He had forgotten about her. “Yes – what about her? She wouldn’t…mind?”

“Of course not. She doesn’t really care what I do, so long as I don’t bother her too much. And about money…I think eventually I could help you find a job, and hopefully I’d have one too, and you could start making money of your own. And then we could…we could see what happens next.”

Theon looked at her rather desperately. Her intentions were good, and he wanted badly to accept her offer, but still…

“Sansa, I don’t know how _anything_ works,” he said, “I was only a kid when they – when  I left. I don’t know how I’m going to _live.”_ She could teach him all she wanted about the world and the way it all was now, but it didn’t erase the fact that he barely had a ninth year education. Often the Managers had referred to him as ‘intelligent,’ and perhaps he was, but he felt there was very little he actually _knew._

“You will,” she said bracingly, “It’s like I said; we’ll figure it out.”

“Still, I’ll just be like a …” he struggled to find an appropriate word, “A sort of…stowaway, hiding here.”

Sansa laughed. “You won’t be _hiding,_ it’s not like I’ll keep you shut indoors. And you won’t be a _stowaway,_ you’ll be more like…a roommate.”

“A roommate?”

“I mean…sort of. Not exactly. But we c _an_ make it work. We will.”

She smiled at him, so sincere and hopeful. Despite his own misgivings, he began to feel the beginnings of hope as well. He imagined living alongside her, visiting the town and figuring out how it all worked, meeting her family, doing whatever _friends_ did with one another…perhaps they could work with each other as well.

They were unrealistic ideas, he knew that. But could it work, somehow? Even just a little?

“I’ll do it,” he said, a little stunned that he was agreeing at all. Sansa’s warm smile made it worth it.

“I’m glad,” she said. “Now, we should go back to the living room. You’re looking pale again; you’re still not _really_ better, you know, you’ll still need rest.”

He nodded. He was starting to feel a little strange again. Sansa half – guided him back to the sofa, where he sat down gratefully. She made tea, and they sat drinking together as had almost become routine for them. It all felt a bit different this time. The last time they had done it, Theon hadn’t been sure what was going to happen. He hadn’t known what he was going to do or what she would want from him. Now, though, there was a plan. He was going to stay with her. It still shocked him, that they had decided on it, but throughout the evening he felt a warmth creeping through him that had nothing to do with the tea. He would stay with her, here where it was safe. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he had what might just be a friend.

Later that night, he ate with her. She’d made rice, with some chicken and spinach. Though his appetite was coming back, he only ate a small amount. He was still tired and achy enough to be uncomfortable sitting there, but didn’t complain. If he could avoid her having to bring him food on the sofa he would.

For once, he slept soundly. In the morning he felt well enough to eat some toast with Sansa. It was odd, still, to be sitting at her kitchen table eating breakfast with her as if there was nothing abnormal about the situation, as if they had been doing it for years. A sliver of winter sun peeked through the tiny basement window high in the wall. Somehow, just seeing that much sunlight made Theon feel more alive. He was here. He was free. And he had lived to feel the sun on his face again.

This was his new life.

He got steadily better at keeping track of time. In the lab, it had not been a necessity. Days were the same; either he was trained and tested painfully or he was not. Time passed not in hours, but in whether or not he had been fed, whether or not the Managers had taken him out of his room. That had been what he got used to. But now he was in a world with clocks, a world with a sun that crept across the sky marking the time of day. And now he was well enough to leave his makeshift bed, he could see the light through the few windows. It had been a week since he had found Sansa, he eventually puzzled out. December twentieth. Still he did not ask what year. 

Once, when she went out to run errands, he came with her. He worried at first, thinking he would surely be seen by someone who recognized him, but Sansa was able to reassure him.

“No one will know,” she said, “How many people in town know who you are, anyway? You’ll be fine. If we see anyone _you_ recognize…just let me know, and we’ll go back, okay?”

So he had agreed. The weather was getting even colder; he had been bundling up in both his jackets when Sansa saw the sorry state of them, and instead got him to wear a thick winter coat that had belonged to her brother. It hung loosely on his small frame, but was warmer and cleaner than anything he owned.

 It had been very strange to be outside in the daylight again, and even stranger to walk amongst the people – the _normal_ people – on the street as if he were one of them. But he just followed Sansa, walked along next to her and did what she did, and he knew she would not let anything happen to him.

The grocery store was a strange place, one that was only remembered once he was there. That was how it seemed to go; the more he spent outside, the more things he remembered from his old life as they happened. He had not forgotten these things entirely, only kept them shoved deep down into the crevices of his mind for many years.

She did everything naturally, easily, picking out food they would need from her list and waiting in line to pay for it. Theon would have panicked if he had had to do it. She would _show_ him what she was doing though, inconspicuously explaining to him how to pay for things, how to interact with people properly. He just watched, and listened. Eventually, she promised, he would get used to it.

It was not the last time they went out together. A couple times he went with her on short walks around the neighborhood, with or without the dog. Once, he found himself mentally referring to her house as ‘home.’

She showed him how to cook, just simple things like she made, things easy enough for him to make on his own without a recipe. Boiling rice, cooking meat or vegetables in oil. There had not been much homemade food when he was a child. His family almost never ate together, so it was down to him and his sister to fend for themselves most days. He remembered the occasional canned soup, frozen dinners, lunchmeat sandwiches. Now he relished in learning any little thing Sansa taught him, knowing it was one more step to learning how to live properly. He wanted to live. He wanted to know how to be a _person._

They watched television some nights. Theon was slightly overwhelmed at first by the mass of channels, mostly shows and programs he had never heard of. And she could _pause_ whenever she wanted, as if it were a movie. You couldn’t do that before, could you?

He didn’t understand any of the things she liked to watch, but he sat with her anyway, listening carefully as she explained the complex plots, her favorite characters and actors. He liked the way her face lit up when she told him all about something she was excited about. Even if he hardly understood a word of it, he would let her explain all these things just to see it.

One night he messed up.

He hadn’t meant to see it, but as he was walking back to the sofa to go to bed, he caught a glimpse of the calendar hanging on her kitchen wall. The whole time he had been with her, he had avoided looking at it. He knew the day and month, and that was all he needed. If he knew what year, if he found out how long he had been away…no matter what the result was it would be upsetting. He did not need to know.

But he glance the wrong way that night, and once he saw it he could not tear his eyes away. He read over it once, twice, again and again until he was absolutely certain he was reading it right.

Almost ten years. It gave him a hollow sort of feeling, to know the truth. Ten years…how had he managed to lose track of all that time? How could he have not felt it slipping away from him even as he sat in that blank cell? The world changed a great deal in ten years, no wonder everything felt so alien.

The truth of it sank in with a kind of icy trickle down his spine and then all over his body. He felt horribly cold.

Sansa emerged from her bedroom, hearing him in the hallway.

“Theon?” she asked with concern, “What’s the matter? You’re very white.”

Somehow, he found his voice. “Nothing,” he said, strangely calm sounding, “I just…I think I’m twenty four. I just found out. It was ten years. I didn’t…I didn’t really want to know.”

Her eyes shot to the calendar, then back to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he said, his voice still sounding strange in his ears, “I just…I wasn’t sure I was ready yet.”

Sansa came to him and touched his arm gently. “It’ll be okay. Do you want to tell me about it at all?”

He shook his head. “No. It was just a bit of a surprise. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Tell me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Still feeling a bit dazed, he wandered back to the couch and struggled to sleep. The thoughts involving his new revelation did not exactly linger, but he found himself unable feel completely at ease when he tried to empty his mind. Despite everything, he could not get it out of his mind that he was ten years older than he had been the last time he was free.

 

That night, the Managers came for him.

He heard them first; heard several vehicles stop outside, footsteps he knew did not belong to Sansa approaching the front door. He did not see her enter the room, but when he turned to look she was there, stock still in the doorway. When they began pounding on the door, he tried to shout to her but his voice would not work. He tried to get up and go to her but his arms and legs were too heavy to lift.

They did not need to break down the door; he couldn’t tell how they got in, but one second they were outside and the next they were right there, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, could do nothing but watch helplessly…

It was _Sansa_ they went for first, not him. They grabbed her and tried to take her away, she struggled and he struggled to reach her but he _couldn’t,_ and then they were on him too, pulling them towards the door…

The hands grabbing him faded away sharply, reality washing over him as abruptly as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over his head. He was up on his elbows in seconds, shaking and clutching at his throat. They were gone...they were gone….still he looked wildly around the room just to make sure none of the dark shadows were really hiding the phantoms of his dream.

And Sansa…Sansa wasn’t there. There were no screams, no thudding footsteps…only a sour memory. Still trembling, he lay back down on the sofa, reaching up to cover his face with his hands. It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare like that. The shadowy fever dreams he’d had over the past couple of days had never been as clear; merely a muddled collection of disturbing memories from different times and places. This had been different, sharp and defined as though it were really happening. They’d been here, they’d come here and tried to take him, tried to take Sansa…

Without warning, a muffled sob escaped him and he stifled it quickly. It had been so real…just when he was thinking he was safe, and then they only came back, like he always knew they would…

Over the next few minutes he struggled to get control of himself until he was almost calm enough to go back to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes he saw them bursting through the door again and he couldn’t _breathe…_ if he slept, would it only be to see them again?

He lay restless, trying to calm his mind. They were gone, he reminded himself, and he would not see them again. Never again.

As he was finally beginning to drift off, just when he thought the terror might have passed, he heard a muffled cry.

In seconds, he was up again and fully alert, heart pounding. Sansa’s room…it had come from Sansa’s room. What had happened? If she was hurt, if something had happened to her…

Quickly, quietly, Theon rose and hurried down the hall to where he knew her room was. He did not hear anything else, and wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a very bad one. The door was unlocked and he slowly pushed it ajar, pausing for a moment. If he’d been wrong…he would only be waking her up unnecessarily. But it was better to check, to make sure. He opened the door.

Inside it took his eyes a moment to adjust. A faint, grey light leaked through the curtains, but apart from that it was pitch dark. If he squinted, he could just make out a raised form curled on the shape of her bed. He heard a small sniff from that corner of the room.

“Sansa?” he whispered into the darkness. There was a shuffling of bedcovers, and the dark shape sat up.

“Oh – Theon, I’m so sorry, did you need something?” Her voice was choked and muffled.

He wasted no time. “I heard you scream.”

“Oh no…oh I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t know I…I’m so sorry, everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

She sounded terribly embarrassed. Again she sniffed – was she c _rying?_ Theon slowly took another step into the dim room.

“Are you alright? What is it?”

He could see her better now, sitting up but wrapped in one of her blankets. A pale hand rubbed her eyes almost angrily. “It’s nothing. It was – I had a bad dream, that’s all. I didn’t know I’d made any noise. Go back to sleep.”

Still he did not move. It wouldn’t be right, for him to impose himself on her when she wanted to be alone. But clearly she was very upset…if it had been him she never would have left him.

He wasn’t sure what madness made him do it, but he found himself crossing the room and sitting down beside her on her bed, making sure to still keep his distance. She didn’t flinch away from him, so perhaps that was a good sign.

“You didn’t wake me,” he said, “I was…I’d had a nightmare too, actually. I was already awake.”

Sansa wrapped her arms around her knees, eyes black pits in the darkness. “I’m sorry. Are – are you alright?”

“Fine. Are you? Are you really?”

She shifted, brushed her long hair away from her eyes. A forced looking smile curved her lips. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

She said nothing. Theon had no idea what to do next. He knew he would never sleep now, knowing she was here in this state. Not unless he stayed with her a little longer.

“I can’t sleep anyway. Do you want me to leave?”

Her eyes flicked back to him. “No,” she said softly.

“Alright. I’ll stay, then.”

They sat quietly together, not speaking, not touching. Theon wondered if she would like him to touch her, to stroke her hair away as she had done for him so many times, or if that would be crossing a line. Still he felt awkward sitting across from her and doing nothing. He settled by laying one hand tentatively on her arm. Why did he do that? What did he do now?

“Theon,” Sansa said quietly, breaking the silence, “What…what happened to you? At the Lab? What did they do? How did…how did you end up there?”

Theon opened his mouth, then closed it, as something cold and sharp dropped into his stomach. He hadn’t thought she would ask him that. The dream was too fresh, he couldn’t think about it, not now….

“Please,” Sansa said, taking the hand that lay on her arm. He looked up and saw her face streaked with tears. “I need to know.”

Theon swallowed hard. Why? Why did she need to know? She’d never asked him before, never tried to make him tell…why now? It was the one thing he had not been able to bring himself to do.

 _She saved me,_ he thought again, _I owe her._

Slowly, painfully, he began.

“When I was fourteen…I started being able to do things. Not – normal things. I could move things without coming near them, only small things at first, pebbles, bits of paper. At first I didn’t even realize what I was doing. But eventually it got more obvious, and I told my sister. She didn’t believe me, but I showed her what I could do, and it – it scared her.”

He took a breath, remembering the look on Yara’s face when he’d sent her school pencils shooting across the kitchen. She’d been _afraid_ of him, and she was never afraid of anything. It had made him more ashamed than anything else.

“One day…there were these people, who used to come to my school when I was a kid. Once a year, they’d come and just talk to us. No one ever knew who they were, what they did. We were just kids, we didn’t ask questions. And this year they talked to me. I think that must have been when they found out.”

Theon paused to look back at Sansa. Her eyes were wide, watching him intently. The next part was something he did not want to explain, something he never wanted to relive. But he found once he started it was hard to stop; as if he were letting a poison leech its way out of him. Still, he fought to keep his breath steady.

“And then they came for me. They…they came to my house. Talked to my father. And they took me. They made me get into their car, I kept asking where we were going, but they never told me. They drove me far away, into the woods...my father never even bothered to stop them.

At the Lab…it’s hard to say why it was all happening, who they all were…they never let me ask too many questions. I lived in a cell, it was practically a cell. I think there were others like me there, but they never let me see them. And they would – they would train me. I was given tests, things that got harder and harder, all to practice using – whatever I’ve got. It was tiring. It weakens you a lot, to do it, I was always tired, all the time…”

 He hadn’t realized his voice was beginning to shake, his hands with it. The memories were coming back again, dark memories he hadn’t even known he still had, thought he’d blocked out over the years. Sansa gripped his hand tighter; he hadn’t realized she was still holding it.

“And your family?” she asked, “You never heard from them? They never gave you news of them?”

Theon shook his head. “No. Never. They tried to…I think they were trying to make me forget what it was like out here. They wanted me to only exist with them, wanted me not to remember my real life. It almost worked, a few times.”

He could remember those times…the times when he was too tired to fight back anymore against them, when it was almost easier to believe this was the only life he had, and he’d never had another. It had been painful to remember his life…forgetting sometimes seemed the easier option.

“What…what were the tests like?” she asked, “How bad were they?”

He swallowed. “Bad. Very…very tiring, they would push me until it felt like I’d never move again. It was only small things at first, I’d have to move rocks across a table, open a door. But they got harder; they made me – hurt things. Open up my own skin…kill mice and birds. And if I did badly, if I wasn’t as strong as they wanted me to be…I’d get punished.”

“How?”

His hands were shaking worse than before. “Well…sometimes they would lock me in my room and leave me there, not let me eat. And sometimes…they had these metal sticks, they gave off an electric shock. They’d press it into my neck, the palm of my hand sometimes. It didn’t leave any scars, but it hurt the worst, you don’t know…”

Sansa took his other hand, tremors and all. He flinched horribly at first, remembering only the pain of an electric current running all up and down his arms. But when he looked up it was only her, soft hands and a kind face.

“You…you forget who you are, after a while,” he told her desperately, “When there’s nothing to remind you where you come from, or who you were before…you forget that anything else matters. It’s all just what’s happening then, what they tell you you’re supposed to be…”

He broke off, words choking in his throat. It was too much. Sansa released one hand, cupping his chin gently with it.

“You’re here now,” she said, “You’re right here. With me. You don’t ever have to go back, do you understand?”

Theon nodded. It was easy to say he believed it, now in this dark bedroom with her. But when dreams like the one he’d had earlier came to him without warning, or whenever he was thrust back in time by something as simple as a word or a gesture…it wasn’t so easy then. Those times he might as well have never left at all.

She took a deep breath, looking at him almost fearfully. “Theon…I want you to tell me something. And I need you to answer truthfully, no matter how horrible it sounds, can you promise me that?”

“I – alright.”

“Would…would you rather have been dead? If you’d known what would happen to you in there, and if you hadn’t known if you would ever get out again…would you rather have died, then go?”

“Would I…what?” What kind of a question was that?

“Please, Theon.”

“If…If I hadn’t known I’d get out? I think…yes. I’d rather die.” The thought of it made him shudder; if he’d had the chance, would he have done it? And if he had…he never would be here now.

Sansa let out a breath closer to a sob. Her hold on his hand loosened slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I know that was an awful question to ask. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes, still watery, rose back to him. “I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth, about me. I haven’t lied to you once since you’ve been here, I need you to know that. But I haven’t been completely honest either. And you…you deserve to know.”

A part of him was deeply curious; he’d had a feeling since the beginning that she had been hiding something, though in time had come to realize it was at least nothing that could hurt him. The other part of him merely felt dread at whatever she was about to make herself reveal for his sake. But he kept silent – he had told his story, it was time to let her tell hers.

Sansa took a shuddering breath and began. “My father worked there, at the Lab. He – he wasn’t a Manager, he wasn’t in charge of anything, he was just sort of an assistant. He was a good man,” she added, noting Theon’s shocked expression, “I promise. I don’t think he ever liked what he did, what the people he worked for did. But once he’d started working there it was difficult for him to leave. They don’t just let you _leave,_ even if you work there. And none of us – my siblings and I – ever knew what really went on with him. He didn’t like to talk about it. We only knew it was something to do with the government.”

She paused, chewing her lip. Theon noticed her hand in his had gone clammy. “Then when I was about thirteen…my brother, he – he started being able to _do_ things. He was like you, Theon. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, none of us did. And he was older than people usually are when they start realizing what they can do…so none of us had any idea.”

“Your brother…Jon? Or was it the younger one?”

Sansa shook her head. “No…no, his name was Robb. My older brother. I haven’t told you about him.”

Her brother. It was all making sense now, disturbingly so. He could see, with a feeling of dread, where this story was going to end up, and could see already what the meaning behind it would be. This whole time…whenever she had looked at him she had seen her brother.

“So my father…my father stopped going to work. It was a dangerous thing to do, and he knew it, but he couldn’t make himself keep going there, not when his own son…you understand. It was the last straw, what he found out about my brother. He started staying home with him, trying to figure out ways to hide him. They sent me away, when I was a teenager. To boarding school. Jon went too. And one night over spring break…I wasn’t there, I wanted to stay at school with my friends instead of coming home,” Theon remarked on how bitter and heartbroken she sounded, “But my little siblings were home with my parents. And I got a call that night saying – saying  - “

She broke off, gripping his hand very tightly. He could tell, by the rushed way she was speaking in an attempt to get it all out, that she had likely never told anyone this story before.

“They told me both my parents had died, and my brother,” she said in a rush, “I didn’t know – didn’t understand why it had happened…they made it out like it was some sort of freak accident. But my sister…my little sister was there when it happened, she _heard_ the whole thing, and when we were older we talked about it and managed to piece it all together…”

Sansa sniffed, unclasping her hand from his to wipe her eyes. Theon was slightly alarmed; he had never seen her this upset before.

“We think – we’re almost sure – that the people from the Lab killed them,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “That they came for Robb, and my parents tried to stop him being taken, and there was a struggle…” she let out a sob, “And my baby brother…I’ve never even told you about him. I used to be one of five, six if you count Jon. Me and him, Robb, Arya, Bran… and Rickon. Rickon was only nine, he was upstairs with Bran and Arya when he heard what was happening – Arya told me – I think he tried to help…he was hurt, they took him to the hospital, but he died a few days later. And Robb, Mum and Dad… I… I never got to see any of them…”

It was then that she began to cry in earnest. Theon hated to see her hurt like this…she’d been the strong one all this time, but now she just looked small and sad and broken.

“Sansa?” he said, a little alarmed. He didn’t think, just did what was instinctive – which was to scoot closer to her and wrap his arms around her trembling shoulders. Half of him expected her to push him away, but instead she threw her own lean arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. A little frightened by this sudden burst of emotion, Theon froze for a second. And then he remembered all that she had done for him, all those times he’d been feverish and afraid. Gentle touches, gentle words. He began rubbing her back in slow circles, slightly awkwardly at first.

“It’s okay,” he said, repeating her own words back to her, “You’re here. You’re here now.”

She clung to him for a few minutes, as he did his best to encompass as much of her shaking body as possible in his arms. He knew what it felt like, to want to be held and not want to ask for it.

Eventually she detangled herself from his arms, furiously rubbing her eyes. There was a wet patch on Theon’s shirt from her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hiccupping a little, “I’ve just…I don’t talk about this. Never. Not to anyone, not even to the members of my family that are still alive. I suppose I’ve tried to forget it all…but it never works. Every night, I see their faces…”

“Sansa…I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, looking at him fiercely, eyes red. “You understand, now. I had to know...I dreamed of them again, what might have happened that night…I needed to think, even for a second that it might have been the better option. That – that it was better he died when he did than go to that place. I _had_ to believe that, it’s the only way I can be alright with it.”

“You don’t have to be alright with it,” he said, “Your – your brother was murdered, there’s no reason for you to have to be alright with that.”

“But there’s _nothing I can do,_ don’t you understand? Whoever these people are, whatever they’re doing, you can’t win against them. They just hurt people, and tear families apart, it’s all they do. Even if I tried to do something about it, to avenge them in some way, it wouldn’t work. All I can do is try and move past it all.”

Theon felt a horrible weight drop into his stomach. “And meeting me…that’s just made that more difficult, hasn’t it?”

To his surprise, her eyes widened in shock. “No, no not at all. Theon, meeting you…by helping you, I feel almost like I’m helping him. Like even if they got their way with my brothers, with my parents…they won’t get their way with you because I won’t let them. I thought it was impossible for me to find some way to bring them down. But by keeping you safe, that’s what I’m doing. They took my brother and I can’t change that, but if I can help it I will not let them ever take anyone else again.”

Theon felt winded. It was almost too much to take in, all of this. So saving him had been her only chance at revenge for what was done to her brother, borne out of a hatred for the Lab and a fierce determination to keep at least one person safe from it. It made sense now, why she was so intent on having him stay, on getting him to live a normal life. She knew how often it was the opposite that happened to people like him.

“That wasn’t the only reason, though,” she said, “I just…I don’t like seeing people get hurt. I knew what would be done to you if I gave you up, and I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve done nothing wrong. You don’t deserve that.”

 _You’ve done nothing wrong._ Had he really? It wasn’t something he thought he would ever hear.

He nodded slowly, still processing. “Can I ask – what happened to you after? After your parents…”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Well, Bran, my sister, and I went to live with our aunt. Jon was old enough by then to have his own place. And I just…tried to move away from it all. Pretend what the official report was, that they were killed in an accident, and grieve on my own and forget about it. Distract myself with parties and a string of horrible ex-boyfriends,” She gave a bitter smile. “But I couldn’t do it. I started doing research, trying to find out everything  I could about what the Lab was.”

Theon felt a prickle of anticipation. “And what did you find?”

“Not very much. They’re even more secretive than I’d thought. All I know is that it’s something to do with the military, that they’re training these kids for some purpose, but I don’t know what for.”

He nodded, remembering a conversation the head Manager had had with him once. “That makes sense. They used to tell me I was going to be some sort of weapon for them. I never knew what it meant properly, they never really explained it.”

“And I learned…I learned about how they take people. And once they take them they brand them with a mark…it’s the one you’ve got, isn’t it?”

Almost absent mindedly, he ran his fingers over the crossed circle on his shoulder. That was how she knew…it all made sense now.

“If I’d never seen that mark, I never would have known who you were. You wouldn’t be here right now.”

She went quiet, twisting her hands together. The silence settled in on them like a blanket. Theon’s mind was whirring, going over all the new things that had been revealed to him in a short amount of time. Sansa’s brother…the Managers…the Lab…her father had _worked_ at the Lab…and only moments ago he had held her in his arms as she cried for them…

He saw Sansa glance at the clock by her bed, and he looked over as well. _3:24,_ spelled out the glowing numbers. Given the very early hour he should have been exhausted, but he felt wide awake. Nevertheless, Sansa needed her sleep. He could think on his own.

“It’s late,” he said awkwardly, “I should…I don’t want to keep you.”

Sansa stared back at him, blue eyes flicking back and forth between each of his own. She chewed her lip nervously. “Wait,” she blurted out, “Please – don’t go yet. Could you stay? Could you stay with me?”

“Oh.” He was a little surprised by her request, but supposed it wasn’t a problem. How many times had she sat with him over the past week, talking to him gently until he fell asleep? “Of course. If you want. I’ll just – I’ll be right here, if you need me.”

He gestured to the chair by her bed, moving to get up and sit there.

Sansa laughed shortly. “That’s…that’s not what I meant.” Even in the darkness he could tell she was bright red. “I mean…you – you don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight. You could sleep here. I…I don’t really want to be alone.”

He frowned. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

For a second he watched, confused, as she struggled to find an explanation. Then it clicked.

“Oh. I mean…are you sure?”

She shrugged, still red. “If it doesn’t bother you…”

“No. No, it doesn’t.” Still…he had never slept _with_ someone else before. He was a little unsure exactly what she wanted from him.

Sansa pulled back the covers on the spot beside her. “Come lie down. You’ll be more comfortable here than out there, won’t you?”

Oh, why not?

Still unsure, and slightly afraid, of what he was doing, Theon slipped under the blankets next to her. She lay down, pulling them over her as well. Her leg touched his for a moment and she jumped away as though shocked. Then they lay in silence, not touching. Theon glanced over to her and saw she was still awake, eyes wide open. He wasn’t sure what to do next; did she want to talk? Lying on his back was slightly uncomfortable, he wanted to roll onto his side but if he turned away from her she would think he was shutting her out, and if he turned _towards_ her…

Sansa’s sudden voice broke the silence. “Are you cold?”

“What?” She was looking right at him. “Oh…a bit, I suppose.”

“Come closer,” she said abruptly, “It’ll be warmer.”

Fine. It would be, wouldn’t it? He shuffled a few inches closer to her, considered turning onto his back again, but remained on his side. So did she. Their arms were touching now, but she did not seem to mind.

“Theon?” she said quietly, “I am really glad you found me. I don’t want you to think otherwise. I am.”

He swallowed. She had told him this before, but somehow now it felt more true, more real.

“I am too.”

Sansa nodded, her eyes very intent. “We’re here now,” she whispered, “They can’t touch us, they can’t touch our families. We’re going to help each other, alright?”

He nodded. “We will.”

He noticed then just how _close_ the two of them were to each other. He could make out the faint freckles over her cheeks, little shifts in the color of her eyes. All those moments of closeness from her before, and he had never really noticed. But he did now, and wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. He felt rather frightened.

She shifted, pulling one hand out from under the covers. Gently she brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. He had the strange, sudden urge to do the same to her.

Without warning, Sansa draped her arm over his shoulders and curled up closer to him, so that her head was burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. Theon could feel her breathing. Tentatively, he put his own arm around her, resting his hand on the back of her head, in her hair, hoping she could feel the same. For some reason, holding her no longer felt strange.

After a while, he could tell she had fallen asleep, the weight of her growing more solid, her breath steadying. He didn’t think he would too, but finally did. Not once did he move away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't like to toot my own horn but I have to say I think this is my favourite chapter I've written so far. IMO it's got the biggest emotional shifts from both characters, and is the real beginning of their relationship. What do you guys think of the backstories?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and some...other stuff. Oh, and also Ramsay Bolton. So that's real fun.

_This time, it was not the Head Manager who waited for him when they brought him to the testing room. A different man sat there, one far younger, probably close to Theon’s age. He almost recognized him, but could not think of a name._

_That did not matter so much. Names were not important here._

_The younger man gestured for him to sit down, and he did. He heard the people who had brought him in leave the room, the door clanging shut behind them. On the table in front of him, separating him from this new person, was a metal cage. In the cage was a pigeon. Already Theon felt deeply uneasy._

_Across from him, the other man smiled widely. Unlike the Head Manager, it did reach his eyes, but somehow that only made it more unsettling. Feigning happiness in this place was one thing, truly being happy here was another. Theon rather thought the latter was worse._

_“Hello, there,” he said, as if they were simply acquaintances greeting each other on the street corner. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”_

_Theon shook his head, dreading where this conversation could be headed._

_“Well, I don’t work here. Not really. I’m sure you’ve met my father, though, he’s told me quite a bit about you.”_

_His father? Was his father the Manager? Suddenly he remembered where he had seen this man before; on rare occasions walking beside the Manager through the stark corridors. Theon had seen them at times passing by him as he was taken in for testing. The few times he had seen him, this man never wore the white coats that usually marked a Lab official._

_Theon opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself, heart racing. He had a million questions, but did not know if any of them would be allowed._

_“You can speak,” the man said, noticing his hesitation._

_He had to clear his throat before doing so, his voice was so rarely used now. “Your – your father is the one in charge?”_

_“Didn’t I just say that?” the other replied, showing the first traces of impatience, “Yes, he’s in charge of this place. Impressive, isn’t it? And yes, you’re allowed to answer that.”_

_He seemed to enjoy knowing he could choose what Theon did or didn’t do. “It…it is?”_

_His smile widened. “Glad even you think so. My father’s taken a special interest in you, do you know that? He says you’re special, that you’re better at all this than the rest of them.”_

_“I don’t…I don’t know if that’s true. I’ve never met the rest of them.”_

_The man’s face changed to one of sympathy, but Theon didn’t buy it for a second. “Poor thing. You must think you’re all alone in the world, don’t you?”_

_He was right. Knowledge of the others in the Lab aside, he was completely and utterly alone. And the stranger knew it._

_He spread his hands on the table, leaning in closer. Theon flinched, and thought he saw something like triumph in his eyes._

_“Now. To business. My father’s off examining someone else, but it’s you I’m interested in. I’ve never seen anyone like you do…whatever it is you can do. All my childhood I begged my father to let me come along with him, let him show me his precious subjects. But only in recent years has he allowed it, now he knows I can keep a secret. And now I’m here with you, and you’re supposed to be one of the best. So, I’d like you to show me. Would that be all right?”_

_Knowing he had no real choice, no matter what the man said, Theon nodded warily._

_The other man’s eyes slid to the caged pigeon. “I’ve heard they’ve been pushing you harder recently. That you’ve been doing more than you used to.”_

_At this, Theon felt an unpleasant ache spreading through his hands. He ran his fingers over the faint scars absent mindedly, remembering the pain of being forced to slice open his own palms with his mind. Part of the test was that they had to heal completely, with as little scarring as possible. Each thin white line had cost him an extra hour without food._

_“So,” said the man in front of him, “we’ll do something fun. You know this one, don’t you? He told me you’ve used mice before, sparrows. A pigeon is a bit bigger, though, so that should be a nice challenge. I’d like you to break its neck.”_

_He spoke unbelievably calmly. Theon felt his breath getting tighter and quicker in his chest. No…they’d told him he would have to anymore, they’d told him those tests were done…_

_The other man raised his eyebrows. “Is there a problem?” There was something else in his eyes now, a kind of greed. “I’ve waited such a long time for this…you wouldn’t want to take it away from me now, would you?”_

_Theon swallowed hard. The pigeon was starting to ruffle its wings in a distressed sort of way, as if it knew what was coming. He didn’t want to do it, he couldn’t do it…_

_“I…I can’t,” he said shakily, “I’m sorry…I don’t think I can.”_

_The eyes across from him hardened. “You don’t have a choice, though, do you? You do what my father says, and you’ll do what I say. When he’s finished with your training, he will be your leader. You’ll have to obey him then. It’s best you learn that now.”_

_Theon shuddered deeply as he pulled from his pocket one of the Managers’ shock rods. They’d given him one…why had they given him one?_

_“I know how to use this,” he said coldly, “and I will if you don’t do as I say. It was a very simple order. Obey it. That’s what all of you are meant to do – obey us.”_

_Theon barely heard him speak. All his focus was on the thing he held. He couldn’t face the pain again, not now, he couldn’t, already he could feel his arms starting to twitch with just the memory of it, it was too much…too much…_

_“I’ll…I’ll do it,” he said desperately, “I’ll do it. Just – just tell me when.”_

_The man glared. “Apologize first.”_

_Fine. Fine. “I’m sorry. I’ll do it.”_

_His smile creeped back. “Good.” He gestured to the flapping pigeon. “Go ahead. Whenever you’re ready.”_

_Theon closed his eyes, breathing hard, trying to delay the moment. It wasn’t real…if he just pretended it wasn’t a real bird at all…_

_When he opened them all he saw was its orange eyes looking back at him, like they knew what he was about to do._

I’m sorry, _he thought, as tears began to sting behind his eyes._

I’m sorry.

 

                                                                                                *

The next morning, Theon woke to winter sunlight streaming in through the curtains. There was a moment of confusion, when he wasn’t sure how he had ended up curled up in bed rather than on the sofa he was used to. It was after a few seconds that he remembered where he was, and what had happened. Turning to the side, however, he saw nothing but a pile of wrinkled covers. Sansa was gone. Had he slept through her leaving? If he shut his eyes, he could still remember the feeling of her curled up tightly beside him…how had she managed to sneak away from being so close? And where had she gone?

A sense of unease began to creep in; he couldn’t even hear sounds from the rest of his house, had she gone somewhere?

As Theon untangled himself from the sheets and sat up, a piece of paper on her bedside table caught his eye. A note.

_Gone to the store. Be back in 20._

Sighing in relief, he folded the note and put it in his pocket, getting up and shuffling out into the hallway.

Now that morning had come, the loss of inhibition that came with things that happened late at night fading, he began to feel mildly embarrassed. He’d slept _in her bed._ Even with his lack of interactions with others for the past decade, he knew that was not something that was done lightly. He barely _knew_ Sansa. True, she had protected him for days, and was his only _friend_ in the world, the only one he knew he trusted…but still he barely knew her.

And what would they say to each other, once she came home? What could he possibly say to her, after that night?

 It was later in the morning than he had thought; the light through the kitchen window was brighter than the weak early morning rays. He’d slept well, he realized. That in itself was unusual.

And there hung the calendar on the wall, mocking him silently. He turned his gaze away from it.

There were no dishes in the sink, so she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. An idea came to him that he could make breakfast _for_ her…would she like that? It would certainly be a kind thing to do…and he felt rather guilty about the amount of times she had made food for him when he could not do so. After all that, didn’t she deserve the same from him? He felt, now that he was steadily recovering, he ought to do as much to help her in return.

He wasn’t all that good at cooking, but after what she’d shown him he thought he could throw something together easily enough. Eggs…she’d shown him how to scramble an egg, that wouldn’t be too hard, would it? Butter in the pan, two eggs in the pan after it, stir them. Simple. Looking over the small kitchen and reminding himself of where all the various equipment belonged, he got to work.

Five minutes later, a thin stream of smoke rose from the frying pan as Theon desperately tried to gouge out the bits of egg that had dripped onto the burner with a fork. He’d _thought_ cracking them would be the easy part, but he’d just ended up with yolk dripping down his hands and bits of shell floating around in the pan that he’d had to carefully pluck out. And now they were smoking anyway, as was the clump of yolk that slid down the side of the pan into the burner. Panicking, he turned the knob for the burner off, but it did nothing. And that blackened bit of egg was still stuck…

In the hall behind him, he heard the rustle of keys, followed by the front door opening and shutting. Oh _no._

Sansa’s footsteps came closer, as he feverishly continued to scrape at the burnt egg, which only amounted to him jabbing his finger into the hot pan and jumping away, hissing in pain. No, no no…he only wanted to do one nice thing for her…

She appeared in the doorway, eyes widening as they travelled from Theon clutching his burnt finger to the smoking pan on the stove.

“What did you _do?”_  Theon flinched at her tone – he hadn’t meant to make her angry, he’d just been trying to help…she trusted him and all he’d done was burn her food and ruin her stove…

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. She hurried to the stove, sighing and shaking her head.

“Here – let me.” She took the smoking pan and moved it to one of the cool burners – why hadn’t he thought of that? “Were you trying to cook?”

“Eggs,” he said miserably, “I got up and saw you hadn’t eaten…I just thought it would be nice, but then part of them dripped into the burner and the rest got all burnt too, I thought it would be easy…I’m sorry, it was just supposed to be nice…”

Theon thought he saw her mouth turn up a little at the edges, and a bit of the panic faded. “Well, they don’t look too bad,” she said peering at them, “just a bit brown. I think we could still eat them.”

When she looked back at him, her face was slightly pink. “Theon, you don’t…you didn’t need to make anything for me. It was awfully nice of you, but really you don’t need to.”

He shuffled uncomfortably. He’d thought his reasoning was obvious.

“You’ve cooked for me,” he said, “and now I know how, a little, so I thought it was fair. You shouldn’t have to do everything.”

She went redder, not meeting his eyes. Theon realized it was the first time they had spoken since the incident last night. Once again they stood very close together. Her eyes had the faintest green flecks in them, he noticed. Why was he noticing that?

“That’s very sweet of you,” Sansa said, recovering herself, “but next time maybe wait until I’m home, I don’t want you burning the house down. The landlady would kill me.”

Fortunately she smiled a little. Theon relaxed a bit more. “Now, let’s see what we can salvage from this.”

She poked at the eggs with a wooden spoon, frowning. They weren’t as bad as Theon had thought, only slightly brown and a bit stuck to the metal pan. Though he felt an idiot just looking at them.

“They’re not bad,” she said, “I think we can still eat them. But there isn’t _much,_ how many did you make?”

“Two.”

“Hm,” she said, “maybe we should have toast as well, do you think?”

Theon got the distinct feeling she was trying to distract him from his own failure. “That’s a good idea. I think I ruined your pan.”

She shrugged. “It’ll clean.”

“What about the burner?”

She took a look at it, taking Theon’s fork from him and poking at the burnt yolk. “I can probably scrape it off once it’s cool. It’ll be fine. Did you burn your hand?”

“Not much.” The skin was slightly reddened, but it wasn’t bad.

“Go run it under cold water. I’ll get these eggs out of the pan and start some toast.”

Theon heard her flipping on the toaster as he went to the sink and ran a stream of cool water over burn. It stung considerably more than it ought to for something so small. Another wave of embarrassment hit him; what had he been thinking? Stupid thing to do…

Behind him, he heard Sansa fishing through the drawers for forks and plates. His thoughts turned back to her. Now that the drama with the eggs was done, the memories of last night were creeping back into his brain. Of what she had revealed to him, and he to her.

He stole a glance at her over his shoulder. She did not look embarrassed or uncomfortable in the slightest; was she planning on pretending nothing had happened? If that was the case, he would play along. But either way, something _had_ happened. There would be a difference now, a difference in how they saw each other. It felt as if something had broken between them, some final barrier that blocked complete trust had melted away with last night. There was nothing left to hide, and that meant something, though Theon was not sure what.

Sansa scraped the browned eggs onto a pair of plates. “Can you start the kettle?” she said from the table, “We should have tea.”

He nodded, glad he could help with something that likely wouldn’t end in anything being burnt or ruined. Behind him Sansa was getting out forks, mugs. The toast popped up and he took both pieces to the table. Once again the normality of the scene startled him; this was just a regular breakfast.

Once the tea was ready, he poured it and brought it back to the table, bracing himself to try his burnt concoction. The eggs turned out to not be _that_ bad, they were edible at least. He’d forgotten to salt them, though, which only made things worse. He hurriedly poured a large amount of salt over them, advising Sansa to do the same. She refrained from making a face when she tasted them, which Theon was grateful for.

“They’re not _that_ bad, you know,” she said, “I’m sure it could be worse.”

“I really am sorry,” he said guiltily.

She smiled, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I’m sure if you want to try again they’ll be better. You need practice, that’s all.” She hesitated. “But…I meant what I said. You didn’t have to make food for me.”

Theon merely shrugged. He felt Sansa’s gaze lingering on him as he ate, and his cheeks grew warm. Would she bring up what had happened between them? What they had told each other?

But she did not, only went on eating. So he did as well, stealing an occasional glance at her from across the table.

After they finished eating, she rose from the table. “Stay there,” she told him, “I’ve got something for you.”

She left before he could ask what she meant, only to come back momentarily holding a plastic shopping bag.

“I got some stuff for you while I was out,” she said briskly, “just small things, but if you’re going to be living here you won’t want to have to share everything with me.”

The heat already present in his face grew considerably. “Oh…that’s very kind, but you didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did. Here –“ she pulled out a toothbrush and pushed it across the table to him, “That’s yours now. Mine is blue, yours is yellow, so that’s easy to remember. _Don’t_ use mine.”

A small smile turned up his mouth despite himself. “I won’t.”

“Also,” she dug around in the bag once again, “I didn’t know if you’d want to shave or anything, but I got you this anyway.” She handed him a razor.

He hadn’t thought about it, in truth. “I – thanks.”

“I got another bottle of shampoo as well, if you want to use it. You _could_ use mine, but then your head would end up smelling like lemons, and I don’t think you’d want that.”

Her hair. That was where it came from.

 _“Also_ also, there’s this.” She pulled out what looked like a lumpy pile of fabric, but which Theon quickly realized was a pair of winter gloves and a knitted hat. He looked back at her questioningly.

“You needed gloves,” she said, shrugging, “and I just thought the hat would be nice. It’s quite warm.”

But… “What’s wrong with the gloves I have?”

Sansa sighed, looking half amused and half exasperated. “Have you seen them? They’re more holes than they are fabric, that’s what’s wrong with them.”

“They work just fine…you didn’t need to get me these.”

Sansa looked like she was having difficulty restraining herself from rolling her eyes. “Theon, they’re a mess. It’s December, you need something warm. You’re wearing those next time you go outside, and the hat as well.”

Theon opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped only by her quelling gaze. “I’m serious. If I could buy you more warm clothes, I would. Go out like you are and you’ll only get sick again.”

“I…alright. Thank you. Really – you didn’t need to do all this…”

She waved him away. “They’re only little things. I want you to feel at home here, as much as you can. I want you to feel comfortable.”

 _Comfortable._ He fingered the nubby, reddish brown wool of his new hat. She really was determined to have him stay. This was really it. He swallowed , meeting her gaze. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”

She smiled, shrugging, though Theon could tell something else was on her mind. And he had a feeling he knew what.

“I really want things to be… _normal,”_ she said, “as normal as they can be. I want _this_ to be normal, I want your life to not be complicated. And mine as well. I think if we try…we can make it all work. Do you agree?”

He nodded. “I do.”

Sansa paused, running a fingernail along the grain of the table. She looked oddly embarrassed. “There’s something I’d like to do…I don’t know if you’d be interested…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you know, but tonight’ll be Christmas Eve. There’s a park in town, where they put lights on the trees at night…it’s very nice. We could do that tonight, if you’d like.”

“Oh.” Theon’s mind was a blank. In all honesty, he didn’t see the appeal of going at night to see some lights hanging from trees, but she seemed interested. “I suppose so.”

“We don’t have to,” she said quickly, “I just thought it might be nice.”

“No – it does sound nice. I’ll come.” He held up the new hat she’d given him. “Test out how warm this keeps me.”

She smiled warmly. Was this the kind of thing friends did, Theon wondered, or was it something else entirely? “I’m glad. It’ll be good to get out at night; things look a lot different, you know.”

Without warning, the memories of his own nighttime wanderings from _before_ shoved themselves violently back into his mind. The cold winds, the roughness of gravel beneath his head…

He pushed them away. Things would be different now.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be nice.”

He wanted to ask _why_ this park specifically, why tonight, and why had she looked so awkward when asking him? But he didn’t. Like her, he did not want things to be more complicated than they should be.

 

Hours later, once the sun had set, the two of them bundled up to go out in the frigid air. Sansa wrapped up in her warm wool coat, and pulling on a hat, gloves, and a thick scarf. She forced Theon into a scarf as well, despite his insisting that he wouldn’t need it.

“I want you to be warm,” she said firmly, “it’ll be quite cold tonight, and you’re still recovering. You really shouldn’t go out unless you’re dressed properly.”

She looked him over, frowning. “Wait just a minute, I’ve thought of something else.”

“Sansa, I really don’t think- “ 

“Hush. Just wait here.”

She disappeared down the hallway and returned with a very overlarge green sweatshirt. “My ex’s,” she explained, “he always said it was ugly so I stole it when he left…I know it’s too big, but it’ll be warm, put it on.”

Knowing she wouldn’t be swayed, Theon pulled the sweatshirt over his head. It _was_ too big, almost ridiculously so. The sleeves fell far past his hands.

“Oh well,” she said, “so long as you can get your coat over it.”

He pulled on the heavy jacket she’d been letting him wear after that, and his new gloves. Despite his previous protests to Sansa, he had to admit they were warmer and more comfortable than the old ones.

While he knew she was looking, he tugged the new hat over his ears. Her eyes widened when she saw him with it, and then she burst out laughing.

“Oh god…” she said, going pink.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “You were right, I shouldn’t have gotten you that. I’m sorry…it looks really stupid.”

Theon glanced in the hallway mirror. “It just looks like a hat.”

“No, no it’s all wrong. It makes your head look tiny.”

He shrugged. “Not really. It’s fine. It’s warm, anyways.”

She still looked uncertain, and also like she was fighting back a laugh. “Fine. Look ridiculous. I’m sure nobody will notice.”

He just smiled. Glancing back into the living room, he saw Lady’s shaggy form curled up on the sofa, looking forlorn. “Aren’t we going to take her?” By now he was used to going on walks with Sansa as well as her dog, now that he had been here long enough she was a staple of his life.

Sansa looked back a bit awkwardly. “Um…no, I was thinking we could just go together this time. If that’s okay.”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.” He did feel a bit bad about leaving her here though…she looked very lonely.

Sansa glanced over at Lady, rolling her eyes. “She’ll be fine. She’s just pouting, she’ll get over it.”

“If you say so.”

Outside the air was cold and sharp – tasting. Theon started to cough as soon as he breathed deeply; though he was feeling much better, some irritation in his lungs still lingered on and the icy night air wasn’t helping. Sansa gripped his arm, looking concerned. “You all right?”

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “We really don’t have to go, if you’re not up for this,” she said, “This can’t be good for you, no matter how many layers you wear…”

“Sansa, I’m all right,” he insisted, wishing she would stop fussing, “I promise. I’ll be fine.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re even more stubborn than I am. All right, let’s go, then. If you decide you want to go back, though…”

“I’m _fine.”_ He made himself look her in the eye. She was taller than him, taller than he’d realized, he needed to raise his head slightly to do it. Her own eyes drifted around his face, searching it. Gently she reached beneath the brim of his hat and brushed a few stray pieces of hair back over his forehead.

“There,” she said softly, “now at least you don’t look bald.”

Sansa took his arm, an oddly protective gesture. She led him up the front steps, to the walk outside. It was strange seeing this place at night; the few times he had gone outside with Sansa over the last couple days had all been in the daytime. A light snow was falling, Theon tensed for a moment, once again remembering the first night he had come here. The streets and houses looked less threatening this time, now that he was no longer exhausted and delirious and running for his life. But still he could chillingly remember how it had been to stumble through these streets, how cold the wind had been on his face, how he’d ached....

He felt safer now, knowing Sansa was beside him. The streets were mostly quiet, only a few cars along the main roads. The layer of snow softened any noise, giving the world a slightly eerie feel, even their own footsteps were muffled. Theon shivered in the light wind. His breath formed clouds in the darkness. When no cars were passing by, it felt almost as though the two of them were the only people alive in the town at all.

“I used to come out at night a lot,” said Sansa, “I felt almost safer then, than I do during the day. It’s strange – it should be the opposite, don’t you think? But for some reason I felt more free when it’s dark. Like I’m hidden.” She laughed a little. “Does that make any sense at all?”

He shrugged. “I suppose.” It didn’t _really_ make sense to him, though he could see where it came from. He too understood what it was like to want to hide.

The stores along the main street were illuminated by the rows of streetlamps, their own front lights lit now and again in a soft glow. Few were still open. Snowflakes drifted down silently, visible only in the lamplight.

 _I am alive,_ Theon thought.

Eventually they reached the edge of a block lined with the spindly outlines of bare trees. The park, he guessed. A path meandered through it, winding somewhere down the center.

“That’s it,” said Sansa, “let’s take a look.”

She led him across the street to the little park. Once they arrived, he could see strands of lights twining through the bare branches, blue, green, red and white. The glow of them danced off Sansa’s face beside him, staining it with flashes of color. Her gaze was not on him, but on the trees. He was startled to see a look of peace there, not one he had seen often before.

“There’s a bench in the middle,” she said, her voice hushed. “Do you want to sit down?”

They looked to be the only ones in the park. “If you’d like.”

Together they walked down the winding path to the bench in the center, arm in arm. Theon was suddenly very conscious of the pressure of her next to him. He wondered how many times she had walked this path before, with what other people.

Beyond the trees, Theon could only see shadows, the rest of the park excluded from the twinkling lights. Above him the crisscrossing of branches cast spidery shadows along the snow, the path they walked. The last time he had looked up at trees like that had been when he ran through those woods, in his desperate escape. And yet here they were again, weeks later. This time the sight of them filled him with a very different emotion.

Not uncertainty and confusion. Safety. Familiarity.

This place was home now.

When they reached the bench, he brushed away the thin layer of snow and the two of them sat down. Theon noticed – could not help noticing – the way the light and shadows framed her face, the way her hair blew delicately in the soft wind. Her cheeks were pink from cold, her eyes bright. Quickly he looked away, heart beating faster than usual. What was the matter with him?

Instead he focused on the little clearing, brighter than the path had been. There was a pit in the center, blackened and piled with charred pieces of wood. Someone had been lighting fires here. Theon’s mind conjured a sudden image of him and Sansa here on another day, another night, lighting a fire and sitting around it talking…they could do it. They could do it easily and no one could stop them.

It was her voice that startled him back to looking at her. She was gazing at the fire pit too, her eyes far away.

“I used to come here with Mum and Dad,” she said, “and with my brothers, my sister. We would always go this time of year… my dad would always bring wood for a fire, and a bag of marshmallows. My little brothers would play with each other in the trees… and I would imagine this was some sort of magical fairy woodland.” The blush in her cheeks deepened. “It all seems so silly now. I haven’t come back here in a long time…I tried, last year, but then I got to the edge of the trees and I just – I couldn’t do it.”

She turned back to him, eyes wide and bright.

“I’m glad I have someone to come with now,” she said quietly, “It’s been so long since I’ve felt – since I’ve felt safe with another person, like I feel safe with you. I know we haven’t known each other very long, this must seem so strange…but I really do feel safer now that I have you here. Does that make sense?”

He nodded without even thinking, because, as he realized, he felt exactly the same.

Sansa’s eyes wandered over his face, seeming to take in every inch of it. He felt like she was looking straight into him, into whatever depths lay beneath his heart.

“Happy Christmas, Theon,” she said.

“You, too,” he said softly, a little frightened of how close she was. If he’d wanted to, he could have counted her eyelashes.

Sansa’s lips parted, then closed, her eyes dropping down to their hands on the bench. She clasped his hand suddenly, firmly, pulling it onto her lap. He could not help remembering the night before, when she had gripped it as though she meant to break it as she poured her story out to him. He squeezed back.

It was a long time that they sat like that, very close, hands twined together. Both pairs of eyes watched the softly falling snow, but could not help casting occasional glances at each other. Eventually Sansa shuffled closer to him, laying her head against his shoulder. He froze at first, not sure what she expected him to do. Then, instinctively, he slipped one arm around her and rested his own head on hers. He could smell the lemons.

To his slight surprise, she did not let go of his hand even when they stood to leave after several long minutes. He figured it would be impolite to wrench his own away, so he kept it where it was, in the comfort of hers.

The snow thickened as they walked, falling swiftly and forming drifts along the storefronts. Theon shivered again within his heavy coat. Sansa had been right; even with all his layers the cold was seeping into him. His tiredness was coming back too; it would be a relief to curl back up on the sofa and sleep, knowing he was safe, knowing he wasn’t alone. Or maybe…would she want to do as they had last night?

 

No, he wouldn’t allow himself to expect that. It had been only once, in the midst of a fit of emotion from both parties. No, he would sleep on his own tonight, and it would be far safer to do so.

“We should have a cup of tea before we turn in, do you think?” she said when they reached the top of her street.

“That sounds nice,” he replied. Sansa and her tea…it seemed she couldn’t go a day without drinking any. The thought made him smile.

She stopped for a moment, looking at him strangely, almost sadly. Her fingers ran along the collar of his jacket. “This was Robb’s coat, that you’re wearing,” she said, “I was the only one tall enough to wear it, so my family let me have it. It…it suits you. Even if it’s a bit big.”

Theon swallowed. He hadn’t known that. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable, knowing he wore a dead boy’s coat.

“He would have been glad I helped you,” she said softly, “I think he would have wanted to help you too.” She smiled a little. “You would have liked him. Everyone did.”

“If he was anything like you, I’m sure I would have.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and once he realized what he had said he felt another flush come into his face. Sansa looked surprised, but smiled, going slightly red herself.

“I’ll call my other siblings tomorrow, you could talk to them if you’d like,” she said, brightening a little, “Or we could do a Facetime, you could all see each other.”

“Do a – what?”

“Oh, it’s…um…like Skype, you know? Where you can talk face to face?”

“Right,” he said, understanding clicking, “I’d like that.”

Everything seemed to fall into place, as they headed down the street toward her house. He was _with_ her now, he could meet her family, live with her, become a part of her life. His own wouldn’t matter anymore. That was all done; his old life no longer belonged to him, it was her life he was a part of now.

He was musing over all this, realizing for the first time in a while he felt truly content. That he almost looked forward to the future, that it was a real possibility for him to live normally, not just some fantasy that could never really happen. He could _live._

He was so deep in thought, in imaginings that were positive for once, that he didn’t notice Sansa had stopped in her tracks. The hand holding his grew suddenly very tight.

“What is it?” he said, sensing her alarm, “Sansa?”

Her face had gone very white, her breath shallow. Just seeing her like that made his own chest grow tight.

“Theon,” she whispered, “why are there two vans parked outside of the house?”

Theon turned to where she was looking, and instantly his blood turned to ice. Just down the street, right in front of her home – and his – was a pair of black, unmarked vans. He did not need her to tell him that these were not people who lived on her street.

A sense of numbness, of unreality washed over him. It couldn’t be…there had to be another explanation…it couldn’t be…

“They’re getting out,” she breathed, “there’s people going to the front door.”

She was right. Theon watched in horror as a group of people in dark clothing started down the front walk, some going to the house next door and some going to Sansa’s. It couldn’t be…it wasn’t possible…

He felt something in him begin to shut down, slowly, slowly. The ground tilted, sliding out from beneath him and he staggered. Not now, not now, he was safe, he was going to go home and have a cup of tea and go to bed like normal people did, he was safe…this was one of his nightmares, it had to be…

Sansa’s hand gripped his arm suddenly, turning him towards her. Her eyes were wide, fearful, more fearful than he had seen them.

“What do we do?” she said frantically, “That’s – that’s _them,_ isn’t it? We can’t go back, what do we do?”

Theon couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_. Sansa…he had to think about Sansa…

They were very exposed, he realized. If one of them turned, looked up in just the right direction…

“Hide,” he said. It was him that grabbed her by the arm now. “Come with me. Do you trust me?”

Her eyes locked onto his. She nodded.

He pulled her up the street, away from the people inspecting her house, away from the terror they brought with them. His mind seemed to have shut off completely, his body working instinctively from all that he knew to do now. Run. Hide.

They hurried up the road, ducking behind parked cars whenever they could. _Faster,_ Theon thought, _Faster._

Near the end of the street a narrow alleyway turned off, bordered by a chainlink fence. And after that…more alleyways, more decrepit buildings…more danger. He took a deep breath, looking back at Sansa. She nodded, face white in the dark. It was the only thing to do.

Theon squeezed her hand and led her into the mouth of the alley, and into the darkness beyond.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy this was a toughie. Sorry for the very very late update. Ready for some action? Because we've got action in this chapter yes we doo  
> I'm thinking of going back and editing some of my older chapters, just in bits and pieces, so don't be alarmed if you look back at them and go "hey, that wasn't there before," it's just the writer coming up with more Cool Shit as she goes.  
> Enjoy

 

_This day was just like any other._

_Once again he had been woken by the buzzer on his cell door, and by the sudden brightness coming in from outside. Once again he had been taken silently, with no explanations or answers. That mattered very little; it had been a long time since he had asked any questions._

_The harsh florescent lights burned into Theon’s eyes as they marched him down the hallway, the attendant in her white coat next to him holding his arm in an iron grip. In another time, he would have been panicking, fighting to keep his mind calm as he prepared for whatever came next. Not now, thought. Now all that was burnt out of him, any hope or willingness to fight drained out._

_Even once they reached the testing room he felt no true fear, only a sense of foreboding. He knew he would be pushed. He knew it was going to hurt. He could do no more than brace himself._

_The man seated across from him was not the Head Manager, which gave him a bit of relief. Not that the others were any less cruel, but he was the worst. And his son… the frightening man he had met recently was nowhere in sight. The attendant who brought him in stood by the wall, along with not one but three others. That made him slightly uneasy.  
_

_“We’ll start right away,” said the Manager in front of him, “this is more advanced than anything we have asked of you before, I will warn you. But we need to know if you are capable of it. It is crucial that we understand how…how far you can go. Is that clear?”_

_Theon nodded, his dread growing. It would all be over soon, whatever it was._

_“Good.” He nodded to another attendant. “Bring him in.”_

_Another door in the opposite wall slid open and the attendant left, letting it shut behind them. Theon waited, holding his breath, for them to come back. Him? Who were they bringing in? His thoughts flashed to the Manager’s son; they wouldn’t bring him back, would they? He glanced up at the man across from him, but his face betrayed nothing._

_When the door wall slid open yet again, it was not another Manager, or anyone associated with them, that the attendant dragged in. It was a man, thin and sickly looking. His age was impossible to tell. Theon was not sure if the wideness of his eyes was due to fear or to his face being so sunken. He was dressed in the same plain grey clothing that Theon was, and a horrible realization began to sink in._

_This man was like him._

_The attendants forced him into a chair, and he sat trembling, eyes darting from one person to another._

_Was this how he looked, when they brought him to a testing room?_

_The look of the leader in front of him was one of disdain. “We’ve had him for a while,” he told Theon, “but his abilities lack the strength of yours, or of most individuals in this facility. Therefore, we have no need of him. He is no longer useful.”_

_His gaze  turned to Theon. “Do you know what we do with those who are not useful to us?”_

_He swallowed hard. He could not bring himself to answer._

_“We dispose of them. If we were to simply let them go, they would surely go about spreading all kinds of false information about what this facility is and what we do here. That cannot happen, you understand.”_

_Theon gave a tight, tense nod. Just answer their questions the way they want…no harm could come from that._

_“So. Dispose of him.”_

_Theon whipped his head around to the Manager, heart suddenly racing. The other man’s gaze was completely steady. And completely serious._

_“Me?’_

_“Yes, you. We need to test that your abilities can be used in this way, with a human being. It is very important to our research. And this man was here, unused and never to be useful. It was a situation ready-made. Get on with it. We’ll be watching you carefully.”_

_The room around him began to blur slightly, the voice sounding odd and tinny in his ears. He felt sick. Why…why this? Why, of all things…_

_“Please,” Theon started, seeing that the voice came from the man in the chair. It was weak from a lack of use. All of him looked weak, from his shaking legs to his terrified face. He could not imagine how tired this man must feel, in how much pain he must be…_

_“Please…please, you don’t have to…” he turned to the attendant, to the Manager, “don’t make him do it, you can’t, I’ve done nothing wrong…”_

_The attendant silenced him with a jab in the neck from his electric rod, making him cry out in pain, tremors wracking his body. Theon flinched, turned his eyes away, tried to block out the screams…knowing that would be him if he refused to obey._

_The man sat panting, sobbing in his chair. Somewhere very far away, Theon heard a voice. “Go on. It’s your turn, now. End it.”_

_He couldn’t. The man was hunched over, still pleading. “Not me…not me…please..”_

_Nothing seemed real. Nothing at all seemed real._

_He could not kill this man._

_A heat began to build, somewhere behind his eyes, like the heat of rage. His hands shook._

_He could not kill this man._

_He turned to the Manager with his unbothered face, and back to the man like him shuddering below him. They were the same. They were exactly the same, he and the other. It was too much. It was enough._

_It was not like when he had gone through his first tests as a child, carefully focusing all his energy on a pile of rocks to make them rise. This was a pure, uncontrolled surge of energy, a rush of heat and pain and anger all building up inside his head and bursting out in a wave, with a cry that shredded his throat._

_The table flew across the room, smashing into the opposite wall and taking the Manager with it. There was a groan, and yells of alarm from the attendants and the man in the chair. One of the attendants ran towards him, shouting at the others for backup, and Theon threw her against the wall too. He stared the others down, barely registering their shocked and frightened faces. His own shock and disbelief at himself felt miles and miles away.  
_

_And he ran._

_An alarm began to sound as he ran through the corridors, it took him a moment to realize it was because of him. The exhaustion that usually hit him had not done so yet; he could feel blood on his face but the adrenaline still rushing through his veins slowed any weakness. He did not think about where he was going, did not think about the scene back in the testing room. All he could do was run._

_He heard shouts behind him, and knew who they belonged to. He kept running…down the white-walled corridor, down a flight of stairs, wherever he could go that they could not find him._

_There was a door ahead, a heavy metal door surrounded by flaring alarm lights and guarded by an armed man. Before he could do little more than flinch, Theon had thrown him aside. The doors burst open and then it was dark, dark and cold air all around him like he had not breathed in years. And then they slammed shut, barring the way, and he was outside._

_Which way, which way? Alarms still blared behind him, distant shouts from inside the building…he could not see, it was too dark…_

_There was a fence ahead. A fence._

_Something clicked. He ran and, before thinking about it, began to climb. It did not matter what was on the other side, it did not matter what he might run into next, so long as he was somewhere else._

_His hands stung sharply, and he looked down to see they had been pierced by a layer of barbs along the top of the fence. He maneuvered more carefully the rest of the way, but soon he barely felt them anymore._

_And then he was over the fence, and falling, crashing to the ground in a huddle of bruised limbs. Staggering, he clambered to his feet. Ahead of him was only darkness, somewhat familiar shapes rising up around him._

_Trees._

_Without a backward glance, he limped away into the unknown._

_*_

Theon kept a tight hold on Sansa’s hand as they ran.

He could not think, couldn’t process what was happening and what they were doing, he only acted on the instincts he had developed during his own time on the run. These alleyways had their own dangers, but they had saved him from those that he ran from for weeks…perhaps they could do the same again now.

Behind him he could hear Sansa breathing hard. It was her he let himself think about, her safety.

Every few seconds he stopped momentarily to glance behind them, ensure they weren’t being followed, and to glance at her. He never heard the sounds of pursuit, so he pulled her forward again.

Where were they going? The first place that popped into his mind was the old building he had slept in, with the rusty fire escape and spray painted door. If he could find that place…

But now he felt nearly as lost and confused as he had that night he’d found Sansa. He couldn’t pick out the path he’d taken that night; out of it as he’d been, he’d just stumbled to whatever he’d seen first.

They had to stop. He needed to breathe, to think. Theon pulled Sansa into a corner, both breathing heavily. He held up a hand, signaling for her to wait there as he crept back out into the mouth of the alley they’d stopped in. He peered around the wall, heart hammering. There was a side street, one he did not recognize. But if he peered even further down he could see the main road… that was a good sign. Apart from that, however, he had no idea where they were or where they could go from here.

“Where are we?” Sansa breathed, eyes wide, “Where are we going?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I…I need to think…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned against the alley wall, trying in vain to bring to mind the path he had taken all those nights ago. He’d been away from the main street, farther in the direction he guessed was north…but his memories of that night were a jumble of pain and fear and confusion.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, _where did I come from?_

He opened his eyes and saw Sansa’s pale, frightened face, and behind it a disused back stairway jutting from whatever building they had taken refuge behind. It crept all the way to the roof, hidden in shadows…

“Stay here,” he told Sansa, and began to climb the stairs. He ducked in and out of the shadows, but did not care very much whether he was seen or not. At the top he crept slowly along the roof, hiding behind a chimney. The wind was harsher up here, tugging at his hair and clothing. From this height, he could see a large amount of the city spread out beneath him; the main road a block away, the streets lined with square houses like Sansa’s, even the park they had sat side by side only hours ago, all of it darkened in the late hour.

And in the other direction, the streets grew steadily shabbier, fading eventually into back alleys and warehouses and crooked fences. He could not make out the exact place he was looking for, but the more he gazed out the more even his breath became. He knew this place, dismal as it was. And if they kept going on along this lane, in the direction of that place…

He climbed back down, to where Sansa stood with her arms wrapped around her.

“We’ll go that way,” he said pointing. She stared back at him blankly, but came forward to take his hand again.

For the next while, Theon was not sure how long it was, they ducked in and out of the narrow alleys crisscrossing the fringes of town.  He kept an iron grip on Sansa’s hand the whole time.

As they hurried along, he tried very hard not to think too hard about their situation. After the initial panic had faded a kind of numbness had replaced it, making him aware only of his instincts to get as far away from where they had been as possible. All he felt was the pavement under his feet, and Sansa’s hand in his. All he paid attention to were the buildings around him.

_Keep going._

_Faster._

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Theon began to note familiar sights. This was it…he recognized these buildings. This was alright. He had survived here before.

And up ahead he saw a familiar rusted staircase, and began to move a little faster, pulling Sansa along with him.

“Follow me,” he said, “trust me.”

He staggered to a halt before the old warehouse. It looked more intimidating how than it had before; the rickety stairs to the upper window swaying slightly in the wind, icicles dangling from the crooked roof. The door was shut, a layer of ice clinging to the bottom. He had to tug forcefully at it to get it open. Then he quickly ushered Sansa inside, glancing behind him all the while.

His body tensed when he entered the large, decrepit room, slipping back automatically into the role of a fugitive, of a runaway. The door slammed behind them, casting darkness around them and making him jump. Then he stood breathing heavily, looking around the place that had, for a time, been his home.

He hurried over to the corner he knew, relieved when he saw the tiny heater still plugged in where he had left it. Sansa remained in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself.

Theon knelt, and flicked the heater’s switch. Nothing happened. He cursed and tried again, even went to the wall and jiggled the plug in its socket.

 Nothing. Bitterly he thought he shouldn’t be surprised, the thing was half broken already when he had been using it. But he felt the beginnings of a renewed panic; how were they supposed to keep warm?

He heard a small sound behind him, and turned to see Sansa, shivering and wide-eyed in the middle of the room. “Theon?” she whispered, “Is this…is this where you used to live?”

Theon hesitated, then nodded. Her face showed surprise, mingled with something close to disgust. It occurred to him that she had likely not spent much time in this part of the city before now, that she had now known the extent of his situation. He turned away from her unsettled gaze.

“This thing used to work,” he said, gesturing to the silent heater, “it was all that kept me warm. But I think it’s broken now.”

She came closer, falling to her knees beside him. Her face was very white, and he could feel her trembling beside him.

“Sansa,” he said, gently taking her shoulder, “look at me.”

She did, raising her sky-blue eyes to his. He wanted to tell everything would be all right – but he _couldn’t_ tell her that, could he? He didn’t know that. There was a very strong chance it was not true. Instead he just locked eyes with her, silently letting her know at the very least someone else was there.

Her shoulder twitched under his hand; she was shivering harder. And no wonder, it was freezing in the old building. Without thinking twice, he unzipped his own heavy jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. The chill hit his own body immediately, but he fought to hide it.

“I’m okay,” said Sansa, trying to push it away, “I promise. You take that back, you need it more than I do.”

“No, you have it. I’ll be fine.”

She frowned, but reluctantly pulled the jacket tighter around her. Theon sat heavily next to her. He was trembling too, and not entirely from the cold. It felt like the two of them were both still struggling to catch their breath.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” he said, “we’ll be safe. I hid here for weeks, no one found me.”

“And tomorrow? What are we going to do?”

“We’ll…we’ll figure something out. It’ll be all right.”

Even to his own ears he did not sound very convincing. He tightened his grip on Sansa’s shoulder. “You should rest,” he said, “I’ll stay awake, watch the door.”

“I’m not letting you do that! If anyone should rest it’s you.” She looked at him with concern. “You’re shaking.”

“So are you.”

She looked unconvinced, but eventually nodded. “You should wake me at some point, though. When you can’t stay awake anymore, come and tell me and I’ll change with you.”

Theon nodded too, knowing it was better than to argue with her.

He crept closer to the entrance, huddling against one of the cracked walls. Behind him Sansa’s shadowy form lay hunched under his coat. He heard her voice, muffled but echoing, from that direction.

“Theon? Don’t go too far away. I want to be able to see you.”

“I won’t,” he said softly. He stayed right where he was, doorway clearly in sight but Sansa in sight as well.

He sat for a long time, shivering but wide awake. His eyes stayed locked on the pale line of the doorframe, ears straining for any sounds of pursuit. Every distant rumble of cars or rustle of the wind sent his heart racing, it was like being on the streets for the first time all over again, that first night when any night noise made him think of the men hunting him.

As he sat in the dark, the terror of what had happened finally began to sink in. They’d been found…how had they been found? He thought he’d been safe, thought he would never have to see those vans or uniformed people ever again. The blackness around him made it easier for unwanted thoughts to creep into his head. His hands began to shake violently within his gloves, and he clasped them together, though there was no one to hide it from. Only now did he realize how exhausted he was from running, how his limbs ached and his lungs burned when he breathed too deeply. He had almost forgotten that just five days ago he was too ill to stand up properly.

He rested his head against the wall, letting out a shuddering breath. If he closed his eyes, it was not very much darker than the actual room around him. His thoughts spun around restlessly, bouncing around inside his skull. Now that Sansa was asleep, and there was no one to speak to that could distract him from them, they ran freely. In the pitch darkness he almost could imagine he was back in his cell…every time the thoughts of that came back into his mind he shook them away. He scratched at the old cut on his arm absent mindedly, trying to drag himself back to the present.

At some point, he was not sure when, but without trying to he fell asleep against the wall.

Much later, he jerked awake in the dark, half panicking when he forgot for a moment where he was. Something heavy was around his shoulders. He could still barely see, but felt the weight of his winter coat thrown over him like a blanket.

Turning to look behind him, he could make out the rough outline of Sansa curled up against the wall, heard her soft breathing. Quietly, trying not to wake her, he shuffled over and laid the coat back over her sleeping form. She needed it more than he did.

As he made to get up and leave, she stirred a little beside him.

“Why don’t you just lie down too?” Her voice was muffled from sleep.

He hesitated. “I can’t. I have to watch.”

“If they haven’t found us yet, I doubt they will now,” she mumbled, “just lie down, you’ll freeze.”

Theon debated with himself for only a little longer before obliging and lying down beside her. He shuddered as soon as his body touched the cold concrete. Next to him, Sansa shuffled closer, once again burying her head into his shoulder, for warmth or for comfort he could not tell. Automatically his own trembling arms went around her, pulling her even closer to him.

It was only practical, he told himself. Without the heat of their bodies they could easily freeze out here.

Gradually, he felt his breathing slow, the whirring of his mind lessen a little. He tried to focus only on her, only on the two of them, the rhythm of their breath in the darkness. Somehow it was calming, even amongst the terror that gripped him. They were together, at the very least. For now he did not have to think about anything else.

He tried hard – very hard – not to fall asleep, still determined to keep some kind of watch in case they had been followed. But after a while he had to admit she’d been right; nobody seemed to be coming. What could they be doing, back at her house? He didn’t want to think about it, about _them_ in _her_ space, looking through _her_ things…it filled him with rage more than fear. She deserved none of this.

 _Because of me,_ he thought, _all because of me._

And because of him, he was now all she had. So be it. He would to his best to keep her safe from now onward. It would do nothing to repair the damage he had caused already, but it was the only thing he could do.

If she still wanted him.

He shifted his head a little, adjusting his arm beneath her. The warmth of her was so close, the lemon scent of her hair, so close and yet so far away…he couldn’t lose her now.

Finally he fell asleep next to her, curled up against the chill air.

 

When he woke up again the room was filled with a grey light, and there was a heavy weight over him. He rolled over and found his jacket had been draped back over him yet again as he slept. Sansa was awake, sitting against the wall with her arms around her knees. Her eyes were red when they flickered over to him.

“Hey,” she said. Theon sat up, wrapping the coat around his shoulders as he did.

“Did you sleep?”

She shrugged. “Enough.”

He shuffled closer to her. “Did anyone – did you see anything?”

“No. “

Good. They had not been followed, or at least had not been found yet. Still, Theon glanced anxiously towards the door. Nothing.

“Theon?” He looked quickly back to see her staring at him over the cradle of her arms. “What do we do now?”

He swallowed. She had no idea what to do…it was him who had been running away from them already, him who knew how to hide and run and forage. It was him who would now have to lead her, even though he was not sure he trusted himself to do so even for himself.

He took a deep breath. “We can’t go back to your house. We can’t. I don’t know how long they’ll be there, but we can’t go back just in case.”

“Could they be…could they be tracking us somehow?’

“I don’t know. I don’t know how far they’ll go.” _As far as they can,_ his mind told him.

Sansa shifted, chewing her lip. “How did they find us? How…how could that have happened? You’ve been out for weeks, how could they have only found you now?”

“I don’t _know._ They could have been tracking me, or maybe it was random, I don’t know, Sansa. But your house isn’t safe anymore.”

It hurt just saying it. He had just begun to feel safe, just begun to feel like he could finally live out here…but it had always been too good to be true. He should have known better. And now she was in danger as well.

“What do we do now? There’s my brother Jon, he lives a couple towns away…we could try to get there, explain what’s happened…”

It was a halfhearted suggestion. But it gave Theon an idea, one that slowly and steadily filled him with dread upon thinking of it. He wished more than anything he did not have to say it.

“You go to Jon,” he said, “get directions from someone, hitch a ride, walk, it doesn’t matter just make sure you get there. He knows about Robb. He’ll understand what’s happened, he’ll help you.”

“What about you?”

He let out a shaky breath, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll go back to them. I’ll turn myself in.” Hopefully they would be so distracted at their relief in finding him that they wouldn’t bother to look for Sansa.

When he looked up at her, she looked horrified. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Sansa, it’s the only way. They’ll never stop looking for me, and if I’m with you you’ll be in just as much danger. It’s not fair to you.”

“But you can’t – you can’t just give yourself up to them. Not after what they’ve done.” She gripped his arm suddenly. “Let _me_ go back. I’ll tell them I wasn’t home last night, that I just got back from somewhere, if they question me I’ll say I’ve never met you before.  And you run, as far away as you can. I can…I can try to contact you later.”

“It won’t work. They might watch you after this, they might get suspicious… what if they want to take you away to question you?”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

“Sansa, _no._ You can’t take that risk. If anyone is going back to them it’ll be me.  At least I know what they’re capable of.”

Her face hardened. “I know too. I know what they did to my brother.”

“But you don’t _understand._ You’ve never lived it. I have. I survived them before…maybe I’ll be able to survive them again.”

She was shaking her head, more out of disbelief than negation. Theon was alarmed to see tears forming in her eyes.

“It isn’t fair,” she said, “not when you’ve come all this way. And I thought, after all this time…I thought we could stay together. Everything was going to be normal.”

He knew. And he could imagine very well how much her heart was aching just now.

Gently he cupped her face in his hand. It was a gesture the felt unnatural, not right coming from him. “Sansa…it can’t be. It was stupid of us to think it could be. We can’t – this can’t happen. It’s too dangerous for you, I was selfish…”

He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow his heart. “I meant what I said to you; I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me. You’ve been a good friend – the best friend I’ve ever had. And I hate to leave, I don’t want to leave you after all you’ve done, but I can’t let you get hurt. It’s the least I can do.”

There was no way, no way to say goodbye to her that would be adequate. Theon hesitated, and then kissed the top of her head, hoping it was enough, hoping it wasn’t too much. When he pulled away she wasn’t looking at him, but her hand rose to touch his, so soft and so gentle. He let her stay like that for another minute, feeling he owed her that much at least.

“I wish I’d had more time with you,” he said.

But when he tried to pull his hand away, to finally stand, she would not let go. Her face had gone dark.

“No,” she said, “I won’t let you do it.”

“Sansa-“

“I _won’t._ “ She had that fierce look on her face again, the one that Theon now knew meant she would be getting her way, no matter what. “I won’t. We stay together, no matter what. I’m not letting you leave, not after everything. If you give yourself up to them, I’m coming too. And if I run away to safety I’ll be dragging you with me. I go where you go, do you understand?”

No…no, that wasn’t right. She couldn’t come _with_ him, it couldn’t happen, it wasn’t _supposed_ to happen…

“Theon,” she said, looking straight at him now, “I will not let you go back to those people. I don’t care what you say, if I deserve to be safe from them then so do you. We run, and we run together.”

He searched her face, her pretty face, the blue eyes ringed with shadows. She did not deserve this life.

“We’d be running for a long time,” he said quietly, “I don’t know how long. We’d be in danger, we’d never be able to stop…you can’t want a life like that…”

“I doubt you do either, but it’s the best choice we have. And,” she smiled thinly, “I’ve always wished for a bit of an adventure.”

He squeezed her hand impulsively. “You mean it? You can’t be serious…”

She certainly looked serious. “I am. You’re not going anywhere on your own.”

Theon felt his throat go tight. Despite the circumstances, he could not help feeling right then and there and immense feeling of gratitude towards her. He could not believe, of all the people in the world, he had become  friends with someone like her.

Nevertheless, he was torn. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do, it would be simpler and safer to simply let her run while he went back. But she would never let up, he knew that. And he was thoroughly relieved he would not need to do what he had been considering.

“So…what are we going to do, then?”

Sansa took a deep breath. “My car,” she said, “it’s parked at the bottom of the street, away from the house. I didn’t think about it last night, but if there was a way we could get to it…we could just drive away. I can find Jon’s house, I know where it is. Once we’re there we’ll be safe.”

“Are you sure?” he had his doubts, particularly surrounding the idea of bringing yet another person into this situation. But it may be the best they could do.

“He’ll want to help me, I’m sure of it. And he’ll want to help you too, once he knows what’s happened to you.”

Was that true? Or would another sibling of Robb’s simply feel resentment towards one whose fate had not been as cruel and final as his?

Sansa took both his hands in hers. “I trust him. We can do this. We’ll make it, we’ve made it this far.”

Right then, looking into her eyes, Theon had a sudden and terrifying urge to kiss her. It came without warning, without his volition. He shook it away almost as soon as it came, alarmed. What was the matter with him?

He swallowed tightly, avoiding her eyes. “We have.”

“Do we…do we go now?”

“No. Once it’s dark, we’ll leave. Who knows if they’ll even be there by then?”

Sansa gave him an odd look, one he could not read. “I’m glad we’re not splitting up,” she said softly.

“So am I.”

 

They passed the day in near silence. Theon wished they had food, or at least water, but they hadn’t thought of it and now any way to acquire some would be too dangerous. He sat by the entrance to the building, guarding it, watching the alley for any sign of activity. The whole time he saw nothing. Sansa sat with her back to the wall, eyes dark and distant. Every time he looked at her, he felt another wave of guilt. For getting her involved in this, for harming her more than she deserved. So he tried not to look at all.

It still got dark early this time of year, the light fading quickly behind the city buildings. And once it had gone completely, Sansa and Theon emerged from their hiding place.

It wasn’t as cold as it had been, but still cool, the layer of snow on the ground half melted. They walked as quietly as they could, creeping through the shadows of back alleys and passages in the same way they had come, hands clasped tightly. Their breath clouded in the dark, cold air, their feet crunching softly along the ground.

When they came in sight of the street Theon now knew to be hers, he felt a jolt right in the middle of his chest. Slowly, carefully, he crept to the mouth of the alley and peered around the corner.

The vans were still there. No person was visible, but a light inside the house was on. A light _upstairs._ What had they been doing there all day, searching the whole building? Theon couldn’t imagine their exact intentions, and didn’t want to.

Sansa appeared beside him. “That’s the car,” she whispered, pointing far down the street. “It’s past the house. We’d have to go by to get it.” Her face was white and frightened. “Do you think we could sneak past them?”

He shook his head. “No. And I don’t want to try. We’ll go around to the main street, come up from the other end.”

She nodded silently, and the two of them crept back to the alley. The lights of the main road were easily visible, all they would need to do was sneak down the next side street and get back to it. They walked quickly, never knowing if they were about to be caught.

They reached the main street in short time, keeping their heads down as they walked, watching out for anything suspicious. But not many people were out this late, only an occasional car trundling down the street. Even the _lack_ of activity Theon found suspicious; it made every bit of movement he did notice stand out to him, making him tense sharply and glance around.

His anxiety only increased when they reached the foot of Sansa’s street. She pointed out her car easily, near the end of the road. Even from there he could see those vans, and the house behind it. They stood at the corner, Theon trying hard to look at the car and only the car, not what lay up the street, every muscle tense. He squeezed Sansa’s hand, pulling her forward.

They ran across the quiet street oblivious to their plight, glancing repeatedly up to the house and the vans. Nobody came out, nobody seemed to see them.

Sansa’s hands shook as she pulled out her keys. She fumbled with them in the dark, muttering a curse as she nearly dropped them on the pavement. The car’s lights flared once, emitting a small _peep_ that made Theon jump from its suddenness.

“Get in,” Sansa told him.

She slid into the driver’s seat, Theon beside her, turning the car on as quickly as she could. He secured his seatbelt with trembling fingers, remembering right away this time. Right away he glanced out the window behind him, peering carefully at the house and the two vans. With a jolt of alarm he saw the shadows of figures moving in the dark.

“Sansa,” he said, “someone’s coming – we need to leave _now.”_

She nodded, backed out slowly, then hit the gas as hard as she could. With one last backward glance they were off, into the unknown once again.

The lights town flashed by as they drove, quicker than Sansa might have had it been the middle of the day.

“They’ll know,” said Theon, “they’ll see someone’s gone, they’ll track us.”

Sansa’s eyes were on the road ahead of her. Her voice was more steady than her hands. “Then we have a head start, at least.”

She glanced in her mirror and swerved suddenly, down a different street. “We have to lose them,” she said, “even if they’re not following us yet, we need to take a route they won’t expect. This way will get us out, but it’s a bit of a detour.”

“You know better than me.”

Theon sat stiffly in his seat, checking behind him repeatedly. One knee jumped up and down uncontrollably. He did not like being in the car at night, didn’t like not being able to see anything outside that wasn’t illuminated, even the empty spaces within the car were darkened if they weren’t near the lights of the dashboard. He kept his focus on the profile of Sansa’s face, very pale but steady, eyes clear. If she could keep her head, if she could hold in her panic, so could he.

The town flew past them block by block, with each one that went by Theon’s nerves grew less tense. They could still get away…they were free…

She drove fast, but smoothly, off the main street and onto the motorway beyond. The opposite end of town to where he had first entered. He watched her hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, eyes darting repeatedly to the rear view mirror. Only a few other cars passed them, headlights looming out of the darkness ahead. Soon the lights from the town behind faded to pinpricks. The darkness of the world around them reminded him of the first time he had come here, in Lee’s car, though this was the opposite… this time they were leaving, and driving into the night instead of away from it.

He heard a sniff and glanced over at Sansa, and saw she had tears running down her face.

“Lady,” she said quietly, “We left Lady.”

Theon started to comfort her, to assure her the dog would be safe even though he knew no such thing, but she wiped away her tears and focused on the road ahead.

Along the sides of the road, he could make out the empty space of fields, faint grey trees silhouetted far away. The sky stretched black and cold above them, arcing down to meet the horizon wherever he looked. He felt very small, and very exposed.

The road grew more winding, more remote. Far off Theon could see the yellow pricks of light from other towns, emerging from the grey of the rest of the world. But where they were it was getting wilder, thickets of trees popping up in the beams of their headlights. Theon did not know which direction they were going; he trusted that Sansa knew her way, but part of him feared they were just going back in the direction of the Lab  

Her hand on the wheel jerked suddenly, her breath hissing.

“No,” she muttered, glancing back into her mirror, “no, no no, not now…”

Theon whipped around, craning his neck out the back window, and his heart missed a beat. They were being followed. Not by both vans, only one, but its movements were persistent and steady. They couldn’t be caught now, they _couldn’t_ be…

“They’ll drive us off the road if they can,” she said, voice shrill and panicky, “There’s nowhere to go, there’s no way we can lose them…”

 _Off the road…_ an idea sparked in him, not one he liked, but the only one that made sense. The only one that might work. He began rolling down the window.

“What are you doing?” said Sansa, glancing from the road to him, “You can’t let them see you!”

“Trust me. Don’t slow down, no matter what.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt, rolling the window down as far as it would go. Gripping the edge of the window, he half stood up so that his head hung out in the open air. Behind them, the van came back into view, a good distance behind but clearly on their tail.

For a second he shut his eyes, trying only to breathe, to block out any other sound or sight, All that mattered was him and the van…him and the van…

It was for Sansa. No matter how difficult it was about to be, no matter how dangerous…it was for her.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and found them still resting on the distant van. He locked onto it, until it filled his vision, nothing else there at all. Imagined a rope, tying the two of them together.

He had never tried it with anything this size before. He was not sure if he was capable of it. With all the strength he possessed, he pulled the invisible rope.

At first, nothing happened. He stared it down, headlights almost blinding him. Then the van lurched slightly to one side.

Despite the weakness that was already beginning to take hold of him, Theon felt himself smile. _Got you._

He pulled again, harder this time. The strain of it made his head ache, made him tremble all over. He could feel beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. It did not matter.

Again. And again. Each time the van jerked a little further to the side of the road. If he could just get one good one…

The van tipped dangerously, and Theon held it there, muscles shaking with the effort. With all his might he kept it hanging on two wheels, unable to take it any further. Sweat ran into his eyes. Distantly he thought he could hear Sansa’s voice calling to him, but did not respond to her. All that mattered now was that he force the van just a little further…

 _Come on, you bastard,_ he thought, and with an enormous effort, focusing harder than he ever had in his life, he pushed just the smallest bit more.

Seemingly in slow motion, it wavered on its axis before falling sideways and crashing onto the road, rolling over once into the ditch.

The tension attaching Theon to the van snapped, with such a powerful invisible force that he was almost thrown backwards into the car. All his senses felt like they’d been fried, his lungs almost too heavy for him to breathe. The inside of the car spun wildly, so he shut his eyes against it. He did not even hear the crash of the van behind him through the ringing in his ears. The car lurched, Sansa was yelling next to him…

He must have blacked out for a moment, because when he opened his eyes next the ringing was gone, but everything sounded oddly slow and distant. Beside him, Sansa’s blurry, unfocused form was shouting something, and at the same time he thought he heard his name being called…eventually the two matched up together.

“Are you all right?” she was saying, “Theon, are you all right?” Her eyes darted wildly from him to the road ahead of them.

When he spoke it sounded and felt like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of mud. “I got them?”

Sansa nodded, face taught. “You did. They’ve crashed, back there... they went off the road completely…” she sounded shocked. “Are you all right?”

He nodded thickly, pushing himself upright from where he had slumped back against the seat. Every inch of him ached as if he’d run a mile.

Sansa’s shaking voice cut through again. “You’re bleeding.”

Weakly he raised his hand to his face, finding blood staining his mouth and nose. “That’s fine,” he said, “that happens.”

She glanced back at him anxiously. “It looks like it’s in your hair too, from somewhere on your head…is that – normal?”

He brushed his fingers along his scalp, to a painfully throbbing ear. This too came away red. Blood from his ears…that had never happened before.

Hands still shaking, he rolled the window back up and fastened his seatbelt once again before collapsing back into his seat. He had not known he could do anything that difficult; pushing away the men who mugged him in the alleyway had been draining enough, but an entire van…

“Theon?” Sansa had glanced over at him again, looking worried. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’ll pull over.”

He nodded. “No – keep driving. I’m fine. Just very tired.”

“Okay. Okay. You rest, I’ll wake you up if I need you.”

He was too tired, too stunned, to argue. Trembling, he lay his head against the window, so intent on sleeping that he barely noticed it vibrating against his skull. The tension slowly leeched its way out of his limbs, leaving him feebler than he’d ever been.  He shut his eyes, letting himself fade into the steady rocking beneath him.

His last thoughts were of the people that had been behind him, of how they had convinced him for so long that what he could do was for them, that he was merely a tool to be honed and polished when they needed and no other time. And how now, in a bizarre twist of fate, he had come to turn against them. For a brief moment before sleep took him, he felt for the first time in a very long time a hint of pride.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so sorry for the hella long time it took to update. But I'm finally back, and so are these little guys. Hope you enjoy, the next updates shouldn't take as long. Thanks again to Suburbanbeatnik for help with ideas for this one.  
> I'm sure you're aware of this, but I don't own McDonalds or any associated products.

A sudden jolt tore Theon out of his dreams.

For a second he forgot where he was, and then his hand found the familiar rough upholstery in Sansa’s car. Still with her, then. And still on the run.

She was peering out the front window still, but glanced over at Theon when she heard him shift in his seat.

“You’re awake,” she said.

He nodded, pulling himself carefully into an upright position. His limbs still felt weak, head swimming a little, but he was sure he could walk. A trail of dark blood ran down the front of the sweatshirt he was wearing, the memory of how it had gotten there returning swiftly. He reached up to wipe the blood from his face.

“Here,” said Sansa, rummaging one handed in the glove compartment. She emerged with a wad of tissues.

“Thank you.” He cleaned himself off as well as he could, conscious of the fact that he still probably looked a mess.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine. I’ve been worse.”

She nodded distractedly, eyes still on the road. “Are you hungry? We should stop somewhere, I think there’s an exit coming up.”

He _was_ hungry, though he hadn’t quite noticed until now. How long had it been since they’d eaten? Or had any water?

“I don’t know about you, but I need food,” she said, “I need food, and if I don’t get any soon I’m going to start screaming.”

The darkness outside was just as heavy as it had been earlier. “Are you sure anything will be open?”

“Something’s bound to be. There’ll be a McDonalds or something, I’m sure they’re open at all kinds of ungodly hours.”

Any kind of food in the world would be all right, so long as it was edible.

They drove along in silence some more, Theon still frequently glancing out the window behind them to check if they were being followed. So far, they were not. He kept running over the happenings of the night in his mind…somewhere on the road behind them now lay a black van on its side in a ditch. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of that. Had anyone died? If so, _he’d_ been the one to do it…

It didn’t matter. They were Managers; they’d hurt him, hurt Sansa’s brother. He did not need to feel sorry for them.

But what if they hadn’t been? What if some of them were like Sansa’s father, innocent people pulled into a position they found they could not escape? And he’d hurt them, just like he had the night he escaped…

 _I’m not a murderer,_ he thought, _I’m not a monster._

But he was not sure if it was true.

 

Soon they reached their turnoff, Sansa took them down the road towards a brightly lit parking lot. A gas station stood off to the side, and a group of food places around it. Right in front was the distinctive McDonalds sign; Sansa had been right, it was still open.

Theon’s heart started to race a little. Would he have to go inside? There would be all those bright lights… and _people._ He wasn’t ready to face anyone except her, not yet.

She saw him staring, and touched his arm gently. “I know you’re nervous. It’ll be quick, though, I’ll just go in and grab some food, you can use the bathroom if you need to.”

He felt his heart jolt. “I…I don’t want to go inside.”

“It’ll be fine. Put your hood up, no one will notice you. I doubt they’ve got many customers right now anyway. And you really should wash your face, people will notice you a lot more if you’ve got blood all over you.”

That was true. But it did nothing to help with his anxiety.

Sansa tugged the sleeve of his jacket. “Come on. It’s not like you have to go in alone, I’ll make sure no one notices you too much.”

He was tense the whole walk from the car to the building, every nerve on alert, casting constant glances to the more darkly shadowed areas of the parking lot. There was a strange air about the place, almost a familiarity. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but instead of comforting him it only made him more unsettled.

The lights inside _were_ bright, and the whole place boasting new bits of technology he had never seen before. He swallowed a new slew of questions, and counted himself lucky that the only people were a couple workers behind the counter and one older man hunkered in a corner booth.

“Put your hood up,” Sansa said in a low voice when they crossed the threshold, “if I’m gone when you come out of the bathroom, I’ll be by the car. Come and meet me there.”

He nodded, fishing out the hood of his sweatshirt and pulling it tight around his head. If any of the three strangers noticed anything strange about his appearance, they said nothing.

Inside the bathroom he was once again startled by the sight of his own reflection. He was only slightly healthier looking than the last time he’d looked properly, the last couple days on the road making him look almost as pale and thin as before. And then there was his bloody face…

He grabbed a wad of paper towels and ran them under the faucet, then did what he could to mop the blood off his nose, his chin. He even tried dabbing at the spots of it down the front of his sweatshirt, but it didn’t do very much. That didn’t matter, he could cover it up.

As he was turning off the water, he saw yet another red spot appear in the white sink. He looked up to see another, smaller trickle of blood from his nose. How was it _still_ bleeding? Frustrated, he tore off another clump of paper and bunched it up under his nose, squeezing hard. Hopefully no one would question a nosebleed.

As he was about to leave, something caught his eye. It was just a crack in the wall, a jagged hole in the plaster above the mirror that was shaped almost like a smile. Something about it sent a chill right through his heart…and that was when he remembered.

_“There was a crack in the wall, like a smiley face, but only the smile.”_

_“You should have given it a pair of eyes, then. What good is a smiley face without eyes?”_

A cold, cold trickle settled in his stomach. He had been here before. When he was young, very young…long enough ago that he wouldn’t have remembered easily. But he did now, something about that crack in the wall had sent it all jolting back to him. He and his sister…and his mother.

He shook the memories away. They, like many that were his, had not ended happily.

Luckily, Sansa was still waiting for their food when he came out, tapping her finger nervously against her leg. Her head jerked up when she saw him, and she beckoned him over.

“I’ll be just a minute more,” she said. “Go back to the car, I’ll be out soon.” Up close, she looked just as tense and anxious as he felt, perhaps more. As much as he did not want to leave her alone, or cross that dark parking lot by himself, he nodded and did as she said.

The long walk was just as nerve wracking the second time as it had been the first. Theon had to fight to stop himself from running halfway there.

She’d locked the car doors before they’d left, so he waited outside, breath misting in the cold air. A shiver went through him. At least it had stopped snowing.

It seemed an hour – a cold, tense hour – before he saw Sansa’s tall, red haired form coming out the front doors. He started towards her immediately, not wanting to wait there any longer. The sooner they left, the sooner he’d feel more at ease. He thought travelling had put him on edge, but as it turned out staying put did so even more.

“I got stuff,” she said, “let’s eat in the car, it’s freezing out here.”

They climbed back into the car, Theon still holding the wad of tissue to his face. Sansa gave him a concerned look. “Is it still bleeding?”

“I think so. Not much, but it’s just…frustrating.” He shifted the cloth’s position, holding it in place as best as he could while still being able to eat.

Sansa rummaged around in her paper bag. “I got us three burgers, we can split the third one. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, I’d eat anything right now.”

She handed him a bottle of water, which he drank down almost half of in one go. Hunger was bad enough, but he realized it was the thirst that was really killing him. The burger turned out to be the best tasting thing he’d had in a while, or maybe that was just the fact that it had been more than a day since he’d eaten anything at all.

They ate in silence, too hungry to focus on much other than their food. Theon cast a glance outside at the empty parking lot now and again, wondering…

“I came here once before,” he blurted out when they were just about to split the third burger in half.

Sansa looked up at him, startled. “When you were a kid, you mean?”

 He nodded. “I was really young. My mum was still alive…I only just remembered it. We…we didn’t really go out many places when I was a kid. We hardly left town. But once, my dad had gone away for a couple days – something for his job, I think it was – and mum thought it would be nice to take me and my sister to visit our aunt for a weekend.

“So she drove us out there, and I think we ate here on the way back. I just…I can remember her sitting in there, laughing at something my sister said…”

But of course, that was not the real reason the memory stuck out to him. “My dad…wasn’t happy when we got home. He’d come back a day early and found the three of us gone, without telling him we were going…I remember him yelling at my mum, it felt like hours…”

He turned his attention back into the car, and found Sansa looking at him. He realized he had never before told her a specific story about his childhood. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t seem like a – like a very nice person.”

“He isn’t.” Theon said darkly. “Wasn’t. I don’t know. It was just…it was one of the only times we ever went anywhere out of town, and it had to end like that…”

“I know,” she said softly, “I hate to think that your childhood wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t really a childhood?” he finished for her, sounding more bitter than he’d intended. She jerked a nod in response, turning to frown out the window.

“That makes me wonder though…we can’t be too far away from where you used to live, can we? Maybe you and I grew up not very far away from each other.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t thinking about that, though. His thoughts had gone back to his sister and, surprisingly, his father. Were they still stuck in the same town he’d grown up it? Had they moved on from his disappearance, all those years ago?

Did they remember he existed at all, or was he just another ghost in their lives?

As soon as their food was finished they were on the road again. Theon stared out the window, watching the pavement beneath them growing brighter and darker in intervals as whenever they passed under a towering street light. Every now and again he stole a glance at Sansa, watching the light periodically illuminate her face as well.

“We’ve got to stop somewhere, stay the night,” she said, “there’ll be a motel or something, there’s got to be.”

 “Sansa – we can’t. If they find us…”

“We’re not sleeping in the car, how is that any less dangerous? We’d freeze, anyway. They won’t find us, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. And one already found us, how do we know the rest aren’t right behind?”

Sansa looked at him sternly. “We stop tonight. We’ll keep driving tomorrow, but we need to sleep tonight. I can’t keep driving; my eyes are about to fall out of my head.”

“Sansa…”

“They won’t find us. The van that followed us saw us leaving, that’s the only reason they could come after us. The other wasn’t there too, was it? With any luck they’re still back at the house, waiting for the others to get back…”

And what would happen once they realized their friends _weren’t_ coming back for them? Theon glanced over his shoulder, but once again saw no ominous black van along the road behind them. He saw no cars at all, in fact, they had gotten to a steadily more remote area of the countryside.

Sansa saw him looking nervously. “It’ll be all right,” she said, “we’ll be okay. We’ll just stay the night, get some rest…”

It seemed like she was trying to reassure herself as much as him.

It was not long before Sansa slowed down. A group of buildings emerged out of the darkness beside the road. There was a parking lot surrounded by a low, U-shaped structure, lit only by the neon sign out front. Theon was suddenly aware, as they pulled into the lot, that he might be about to meet another new person. He had no desire to spend the night in this strange place with strange people, in the middle of nowhere with the Managers after him.

They parked. Sansa took his arm; firmly, but reassuringly.

“Come on,” she said, leading him out of the car.  “It’ll be fine.”

She took him through the door of a small office in the front. A bell chimed over their heads when they came in. There wasn’t much in the tiny room apart from a desk with a computer and some scattered papers. A single greenish fluorescent light buzzed overhead.

A woman shuffled in through a door behind the desk, an older woman with dark hair and skin, and a red mark between her eyebrows. She looked tired and uninterested.

“Can I help you both?”

“We’d like a room for tonight, please,” said Sansa, “the least expensive one. It doesn’t matter, just…anything you have.”

The woman cast a suspicious glance at Theon, still holding a bloody tissue to his nose. She adjusted a pair of glasses over her eyes and fiddled with the computer mouse, frowning at the screen. “I’ll give you number 15. One bed all right? Two will cost you more.”

“Yes,” she said, before Theon could say anything. “That’s fine.”

The woman still looked a little suspicious, probably at their generally disheveled state. Theon shuffled his feet uncomfortably. What would she think of them? Would she wonder if they were criminals of some sort? He let Sansa handle the payment and discussion, still repeatedly casting anxious glances out the window behind him. Then he heard her thank the other woman, and came over to him to take his arm.

“Come on,” she said, “it’s just this way.”

They went back outside and crossed the parking lot to one of the building’s two arms. She took out a plastic card and slid it along a little slot in the wall. The door clicked open.

“Key card,” she said in answer to his questioning look, “most places stopped using keys a while ago.”

She ushered him inside, flicking on a lamp by the bed. It was a small, cramped room, with not much more than a bed, a small table beside it, and a chair. A television sat in the corner. Another door in the wall led to what Theon assumed was a bathroom.

Sansa immediately went to the window and closed the blinds. After that she started pacing back and forth in the little room.

“They wouldn’t check here,” she said, “that’s one good thing about hiding somewhere obvious – they’ll think it’s too obvious for us to do it. I hope.”

 “What…what if they do?”

“What could they do, ask the lady at the desk if she’s seen us? She wouldn’t tell them. It’s not like they could pretend to be police, they don’t have badges or anything. Why would they?”

Theon swallowed. “They could…they could just kill her. Check all the rooms and find us eventually.”

Sansa’s face went a little paler, pausing in her step, but she shook her head. “They won’t. They can’t. Someone would find out…someone would talk.”

“Let’s hope so.”

She sat down heavily on the bed. Beneath the mask of calm that had settled over her face, Theon could see her true weariness and fear starting to show. He wondered if it showed in him as well.

“What will happen when they find the van?” she said, “the rest of them that were at my house…they’ll notice some of their people never came back, won’t they? And if the police find it first, if someone lived…they’ll ask questions…”

Her eyes shot back up to him, wide with fear. “Someone will find us. No matter what, we’ll be found out…”

Theon crossed his arms, starting to pace in her stead. “We just have to keep going. Just keep running. They…they can’t chase us forever.”

Saying it like that made him sound much more brave and certain than he was.

Sansa’s eyes widened. “The TV. We should check the news, maybe someone saw…”

Privately, Theon would rather they not check anything at all. He did not want to know if they were in any more trouble than they already were, and was sure she didn’t either. But curiosity won over…waiting in the dark _not_ knowing was a hundred times worse.

She flicked on the TV. She flipped past a several sports channels and a late night talk show before arriving at the news. Theon came to stand by her as they tensely watched a suited reporter reading out the latest local stories. He twitched when his ears picked up the words “road accident,” and heard Sansa breathe in sharply, but the video clip they showed of the wreckage was certainly not a van tipped over in a ditch.

“Just a drunk driver who hit a tree,” said Sansa, looking a little shaken, “nothing about us yet.”

They kept listening, both hoping and not hoping to hear anything familiar mentioned. There was another accident, yet again not the one they were watching out for, and a minor house fire in a town Theon had never heard of. When the news eventually turned to a story about a man shoveling his walkway as a surprise for his elderly neighbor, he figured they weren’t going to hear anything else very dire for a while.

Sansa let out a deep breath, drawing her knees up to her chin. “I don’t think they’ve caught on yet. We can check again in the morning…do you think they would have seen my license plate? If no one died, I mean.”

“I don’t think so. It was dark, they were pretty far back…”

“Still. They wouldn’t have noticed what my car looked like before, would they? If they did, they could tell the police…they could be looking for us.”

“They’re already looking for us,” Theon pointed out.

Sansa nodded, eyes somewhere else. “Right. Of course.”

She switched off the TV, the sudden silence molding around them like a heavy blanket. Her gaze flickered back to him. “Are you bleeding still?”

He glanced warily at the clump of towel. “Not too much, I don’t think. I’m pretty sure it’s stopped.”

“Wait here,” said Sansa, “we’ve got to get you cleaned up properly.”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter –“

But she’d already stood up, going to a door in the wall that led to a tiny bathroom. Theon could hear water running.

While she was inside, he realized he was still wearing his extra layers. He peeled off the jacket and gloves, unwinding his scarf from around his neck and laying them all on the chair.

Sansa emerged a moment later with a handful of tissues. She noticed his discarded clothing and did the same as him; draping her coat, hat, and scarf on top of them. Then she gestured back to the bed. “Come on, sit down.”

He approached hesitantly, sitting opposite her on the stiff mattress. A car went by outside, its headlights streaming through the blinds for a flash and making him jump.

“Here,” she reached out, dabbing his face. He flinched at the cold at first, but tried to hold still as she sponged the dried blood from his skin. He watched her eyes when she wasn’t looking at him. In the dim light they looked almost grey, rather than blue.

Sansa didn’t stop at his nose, moving the cloth back to his neck as well. He looked questioningly at her.

“Your ear,” she said, “it’s bleeding a little as well. You said – that isn’t normal, is it?”

“It’s never happened before, but nothing seems like it’s – wrong.”

Her brow furrowed in concern. “Does it hurt? Or is it ringing or anything?”

“It was. Not so much anymore.”

“I’m worried about that…what if it’s infected or something? Or – or if something’s happened to your eardrum, or your _brain…_ oh god I have no idea how this stuff _affects_ you, you could be really hurt…”

Theon fought back a strange, sudden desire to laugh. They were running for their lives, and _that_ was what she was worried about? “Sansa, I’m fine. It’s all fine, I’ll be all right. I’m not even tired anymore.”

She chewed her lip, still looking worried. Her hands shook a little as she laid the cloth down, holding it tight in her hand. All of her was shaking slightly, narrow shoulders trembling as though with cold.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, “Sansa?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Fine. Just…overwhelmed. I’m sure you understand.”

“You know I do.”

Her eyes flickered up to him. “And you? Are you – all right?”

“I think so.”

He felt it again then, that horrible guilt that had been simmering under the surface for days once again coming to a head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, you know it is. If I’d just left…”

“Don’t. Don’t do that again. I chose to come along with you, no matter the cost, remember?  I knew what I was getting into. We both knew it would be difficult.”

He nodded, but looking at her face he could tell there was a bit of falsity in her words. She resented him. She would have been insane not to.

“Sansa,” he said quietly, “thank you for coming with me.”

He had apologized enough, and she never had accepted it. Hopefully she could accept thanks instead.

“You didn’t have to come. You hardly know me. But you did. You…you knew you were the only person that could help me and so you did.” 

He swallowed, making himself look her in the eye. It was all going to spill out of him now, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

“When we sat in the park together – last night – you said you felt safe with me. That’s…that’s nothing to how I feel with you. I feel…I feel like…I can hardly believe you’re even here. That you’ve stayed with me this long. It seems…impossible. Impossible that someone could care about me like you do – like I think you do. And Sansa…I don’t want you to go. I know how selfish that sounds, when you have so much that you could be doing without me, but I – I want you to stay. I can’t help it.”

He lowered his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. There it was, then. The awful truth he had been hiding from even himself. He still wanted her. Despite all the danger, despite the life he knew she could have without him…he _wanted_ her. And he hated himself for it.

“Theon,” came her soft voice, “look at me.”

He met her eyes obediently, relieved and surprised to see them filled with what looked like compassion rather than distaste.

“That isn’t wrong,” she said. “You want me to stay…well, I don’t want to leave. I’m glad we’re safe – I’m glad we’re safe _together._ I think…I think we need each other.”

 _Need each other._ He needed her, that was for sure. He had known since he met her, but only now did he allow himself to admit it. How was it that two people from such different walks of life, and whose lives had taken such different paths had ended up needing the same things, and been able to meet those needs for one another? How was it?

There was something in Sansa’s face that was more than compassion, though he could not read what it was.

“I knew this would all come back to haunt me one day,” she said shakily, “I just had a feeling. I’m very glad I wasn’t alone when it did.”

“So am I. Glad you weren’t alone, I mean.”

She gave a weak smile. Theon was startled to see tears in her eyes. Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. “You’re sweet. Do you know that?  I hoped – a part of me hoped – that you wouldn’t be. That you’d be cruel, or selfish, or unkind. Because then it would…it would have been easier to let you go, if I had to. I know how to let people like that go. But then you weren’t any of those things, so I had to hold onto you.” She wiped her nose with a sniff.

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not. I won’t.” She sniffed again, but composed herself. “It’s late. It’s really late, we should sleep. You especially.”

“I’m not tired. Really.” Despite how much using his abilities like he had drained him, and as late as it was, he felt wide awake.

“Well, whatever. We should still sleep.” Suddenly she looked uncomfortable. “Are you okay with this? Sleeping in the same bed? I didn’t ask you, I’m sorry, it was just the easiest option…”

He hadn’t thought much about it, truthfully. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter, I understand.”

Sansa nodded, still looking distant, chewing her lower lip again. “I can’t believe we left Lady. What will they do to her? Did she get away?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” said Theon, knowing full well he was not completely sure of anything.

“They’d better not hurt her. If they touch a hair on her body…”

“Then you’ll get them back for it, and I’ll help you do it.”

She gave another watery smile. “I know you would.”

He felt a small pang of worry as well when he thought of the dog. Part of him hoped she had escaped somehow, that she had snuck out while the house was being searched. And what then for her? She would be on the run just like them. Yet another innocent life he had put in danger.

Across from him, Sansa’s gaze had turned to the window behind her. She seemed like she was somewhere else, looking at something very far away and long ago.

“Yesterday was Christmas,” she said softly. “I didn’t even think of it. I sent that gift to my sister a while ago, but she never got back to me…I hope she got it.”

She raised a pale hand to run a hand over her eyes, still with that faraway look. Theon wondered what she could be remembering…perhaps years of spending the holidays with her siblings an parents, going to visit relatives…a life that had been stolen from her. Just as something of a life had been stolen from him.

Something broke her out of whatever old memories she’d been lost in; she shook her head and turned back to Theon. A small smile crept over her face. “That hat really does look terrible on you.”

“It does not.”

“You can’t see yourself; it sort of _shrinks_ your head, and you keep tucking your hair under it so it makes you look like you don’t have any at all.”

Despite himself, Theon felt his mouth twitch a little as well. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“You look like an _egg.”_

Instinctively, because she had made him think about it, he started to tuck his hair back under the brim again. Sansa reached over and pulled the hat right off.

“There.” She ruffled his hair, smoothing it out over his ears. “It gets all flat while it’s under there.”

He ran his own fingers through it, still unused to the feeling of having very much hair at all.

Sansa’s eyes travelled back to the bed they both sat on, smile fading. “We really should sleep.”

“I suppose.”

She nodded vaguely, and got up to go back to the bathroom. Theon heard her washing out the cloth in the sink.

When she came back she climbed into bed, once again as if sharing one was something they did every night. He followed her, shutting off the bedside lamp as he did so and enveloping them in the dark. The blankets were coarse and scratchy against his skin, but he pulled them tightly around himself, grateful for the warmth. Even in his oversized sweatshirt he felt shivery, either from the lack of warmth in the little room or the lingering effects of the incident on the road.

Had that really been only a few hours ago? Had it only been a night ago that their evening in the park was cut short by Sansa’s discovery? All of it seemed a lifetime away, the time he had spent at her house even further back.

He tried to keep his distance from Sansa – he didn’t want to crowd her – but the bed wasn’t very large and he ended up close to her anyway. He was suddenly very aware of her eyes on him, watching him with an expression he could not read.

She reached out to him, pushing back his shirt from his shoulder. At first he flinched, not knowing what she was doing, but then realized she was looking at his scar. The circular mark on his shoulder.

“Did it hurt, when they gave you that?” she asked.

He could still remember the flash of scorching light, the brief but intense burning of it. “A little.”

“So is it like…a tattoo?”

“Sort of. It was more like…they used a kind of a brand, this electric… thing. Like a laser, I think. There was a – a bright light, this metal circle filled with this hot light, and they pressed it onto my skin. I’m not sure exactly how it worked. It was very quick.”

She nodded, still running her fingers over the old scar. Frightening as he often found touch this intimate, he did not mind it from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t tell you enough times…I’m sorry for all that happened to you. It’s the worst thing…no one in the world should have something like that happen to them. It’s madness. Complete madness.”

“You’re right,” he said, “it – it was.” It gave him a strange feeling to say it. He had not acknowledged before how awful his situation really had been. But it _was,_ wasn’t it? She was right. Now that he had known kindness like he had for enough time, he could see it clearer. They were monsters, all of them. Finally thinking it was like a weight off his chest.

Her expression was strange now. In a moment he realized it was something like awe. “I’d never seen you… _do_ something before. Before tonight. What you did…it was like nothing I’d ever seen. You saved us.”

Theon shifted uncomfortably. “I mean…you were the one driving.”

“You did. You saved us. But it was…I think I might be scared of you if I didn’t know you.”

 _You are dangerous,_ said a voice in his head. He cringed inwardly. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“I’m not.” Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. She shuffled closer to him. “I’m definitely not. I never would be.”

What happened next happened very quickly. One second Sansa was lying next to him, eyes tracing his face, and then before he realized what was happening she leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth.

He froze, filled suddenly with a kind of numbness.

 _Oh,_ was all he could think.

By the time his brain managed to catch up with what had happened she had already pulled away, face bright red.

Still quite stunned, he started to say something – though no words wanted to come to him at the moment – but she had already turned away, lying with the back of her head to him.  

“Well…goodnight,” he said awkwardly, at a loss for anything else to say. Half her pink face came into view as she turned just enough to look back over her shoulder at him.

“Goodnight,” she said, before burrowing back under the covers.

Theon lay in shocked silence for a long time after, not daring to move any closer. Even after he’d managed to fully comprehend what she had done, it made absolutely no sense.

Why? _Why?_ She was completely mad. She had to be.

He glanced back over at her shadowy form across the bed. By the way she was lying, breathing, he could tell she was not asleep. Did she want him to say something? What was she expecting? A slew of ideas came into his head, each more nerve wracking than the last.

For a while he lay there fighting with himself over what to do, if anything at all. Eventually he ended up just rolling over away from her, trying in vain to forget about what had just happened and go to sleep.

 _Coward,_ a part of his mind told him, but he pushed it away. They were hiding from the Managers. And they could be caught at any moment. There wasn’t time for – _anything else._

He lay as close to the edge of the bed as possible, so close that he was nearly falling off. She’d kissed him. She’d _kissed him._ What in the world was that supposed to _mean?_

Of course he knew what it _might_ mean, at least in a normal world, in a normal life. This was neither, she knew that.  So what was she playing at?

Theon pulled the covers tighter around him. It was too much to think about now, tonight, after so much else had happened. Maybe later…if everything miraculously worked out somehow…maybe then they could…

 _No._ Better to not think of that at all. In another world, in another time, then maybe…but this was not that. This world, this life, was dangerous and cruel and unpredictable, and there wasn’t any time for things like that. Maybe, if things had been very, very different…then maybe.

But not here, and not now. In another time only. 


	11. UPDATE FROM AUTHOR

Ok so, I know this isn't a chapter but I just wanted to make a couple things clear about the situation of this work atm. First of all, there WILL be an update soon, the chapter I'm currently working on is just being a pain. Secondly, I will be starting post secondary next week, so I don't know how much time I will have to work on this for the next little while. I don't plan on abandoning it, so don't worry about that, but Im just letting you guys know it might update even less frequently than usual for awhile, at least until I have all my courses figured out. That's pretty much it, thank you all for sticking with the story! Can't wait to hear your reactions to what happens next!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOO BOY IT'S BEEN A WHILE. Hi. I'm not dead yet.  
> So here we go again, these guys are still off on their crazy adventure. This time we've got some background Jon/Dany, also nostalgic feelings and a friendly lizard. Hope it was worth the wait.

“It’s another couple miles from here still. We should get there soon, it can’t be much further.”

Sansa’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. She shot a glance over at Theon now and again, but was more focused on the roadway ahead.

“I haven’t been there in a long time, but I’m sure I still know the way. I used to live there, did I tell you?”

“You did?”

“That’s where we all grew up. Jon was the oldest, so he got the house when…after our parents were gone. And now he lives there with his _girlfriend.”_ Her mouth twisted in distaste on the last word.

Theon had a feeling he was about to walk into some kind of deeply layered familial drama, and was very unsure of how he would navigate it.

“What’s wrong with her?”

She sighed, sounding exasperated. “Nothing’s _wrong_ with her, she just…oh, it’s complicated. I don’t like her, that’s all.”

He gave her a questioning look and she rolled her eyes. “It’s just that they…I feel like they’ve rushed into things, does that make sense? They’ve barely been together a year and she’s already living with him, it just feels weird. It just feels like she’s pushing herself into the family and I _don’t like it.”_

“Have you actually met her?”

She flushed a little. “Well…once or twice. That’s not the point, though.”

“Maybe you just need to know each other better.” But then again, what did he know? What was he doing, giving _her_ advice on people?  

“Well. Maybe. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, if she and Jon can help us, then they can help us. That’s all that counts right now.”

She shot Theon a glance, reading his expression. “She’s not a bad person. I don’t think she’ll do us any harm, it’s not that. It’s just me, I guess. I’ve been in so many…so many bad relationships myself I just get worried when it’s one of my siblings. Every time. You should have seen the third degree I gave my sister’s boyfriend when he showed up.”

She caught his eye and turned slightly pink, looking quickly back to the road. Theon’s own face grew warm. They had not discussed what happened the night before, and if it were not for Sansa’s small signs of embarrassment he would have trouble believing it had happened at all. But he found it hard to look at her without vividly remembering the soft touch of her lips on his, and all the strange, confusing feelings that came with it. He could not help running the moment over again and again in his mind, or worse, half wishing it would happen again…

 _Don’t think of that,_ he told himself firmly. He needed to keep focused on their task, on their flight. That could never happen if he got flustered every time he looked at her.

“When you say ‘relationships’…” he began, and then stopped. As a topic to distract him from the ideas _kissing,_ and _Sansa,_ it was a very bad one to choose.

“Oh, just…a whole string of boyfriends I would have been far better off without.” She sighed. “I should tell you about all that, I suppose.”

“No – what? You don’t have to do that. Really, there’s no need…”

“I should. I’m tired of keeping things from you.” She took a deep breath, and to Theon’s alarm he saw her hands trembling against the wheel. If she hadn’t been driving, he would have laid his own hand over hers.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything. Don’t feel like you have to. If they were that bad…”

“They weren’t _all_ that bad. Just – most of them. It’s okay, really. My brother might bring it up anyway, so it’ll be good if you know what he’s talking about.”

Her tone was light, but Theon could hear a bit of a waver in her voice. He didn’t try to stop her again, though, knowing she would go on with it no matter what he said.

“Joffrey was the first,” she began, “and he was _awful._ His mother was a horrible woman, and she spoiled him constantly so he thought he could do whatever he wanted. I was so in love with him at first – god, I was stupid – but then I started to see how rude he was to everyone else, and when I called him out on it he just treated me like an idiot.”

She paused, huffing in anger. Theon wondered if this was a rant she had given many times before or if she’d kept it all locked up inside until now.

“He’d make fun of me for the smallest things, always told me what to wear, who I could see and who I couldn’t…he’d be awful to my sister and try to get me to be awful along with him – he was just a complete bully. _And_ he wasn’t nice to Lady, either.”

“That…doesn’t sound good. I’m sorry.”

She shot him a quick glance. “It was a long time ago. Right after…everything. When I lived with my aunt.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t…wasn’t a very good time for me. I did a lot of really stupid things.” She shook her head, as if shaking off the bad memories. “Anyway. The next one.”

“He wasn’t worse, was he?”

A small smile crossed her face. “No, actually. It wasn’t that bad, just embarrassing. This guy named Loras; I was friends with his sister and had a huge crush on him, so we went on a couple dates…or, well, I _thought_ we were going out. He turned out to be gay and had no idea I liked him at all, he thought he was just being nice to me.” She chuckled. “I felt like such an idiot. So he doesn’t really count, but all the same.”

“Oh. He was okay though, was he? I mean, he was nice to you and everything?”

“Oh, he was fine. I just…well, I wasn’t really his type.”

“Right.”

She drummed her fingers on the wheel, easing them into a left turn. Now that she had started talking she almost seemed to be enjoying herself. “Who came next, then? Was it…oh, I know who it was.”

Her face grew a bit pink, and she gave Theon a sheepish glance. “You’ll laugh at me. You’re really going to think I’m stupid, once I tell you.”

“Of course I won’t. Sansa, I don’t even know who any of these people are.”

“Right. Right, of course. Okay, this will sound really weird, but it was Joffrey’s uncle.”

Joffrey…the first one, right? The awful one? “His uncle?”

“Yes. He was…I don’t know, he was always around and seemed to understand how terrible his sister and nephew were, he was nice to me when I was with Joffrey…but he was about fifteen years older than me. God, how old was I, nineteen? And he was…way, way older than that.”

He face grew redder. Theon could almost feel the waves of discomfort coming from her.

“Again, he wasn’t bad. Just…it wasn’t right. And didn’t last very long at all. He was the one who ended it, actually. Neither of us were very happy.”

She glanced at him, looking like she was waiting for a reaction.

“I was really young,” she said when he didn’t give one. “I was young and stupid… _really_ stupid, and I just didn’t know what I was doing. It was a huge mistake. I was such an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Theon said awkwardly, “you weren’t. If it was a mistake…it was just a mistake.”

She smiled wryly. “You don’t understand…I was always ‘the good girl,’ when I was younger. Everyone thought I would do something worthwhile with my life; get a good job, marry well, all that. And then after everything happened I just started making mistake after mistake. The bad boyfriends, bad _friends,_ partying…I drank a lot when I was a kid, I never told you. I went to every party I could and tried to be the life of it, tried so hard to be _normal,_ pretend like nothing had ever gone wrong.” She gave him a sideways look. “That didn’t go well, as you know.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Sansa seemed to think – seemed to worry – that by telling him all this she was setting herself up for judgement on his part. When instead all he felt was sorrow and sympathy for her. Hearing about all the ways she had been hurt, all the ways she had hurt herself…and she seemed to think it had all been her own fault.

“Where were we? Oh right. Harry. He wasn’t all too terrible, just incredibly boring and a bit full of himself. Not a good listener. Or a very good talker, for that matter. I got tired of hearing about his sports games every five minutes, it was basically the only thing he’d ever talk about. You’re wearing his sweatshirt, by the way.”

“I am?” He glanced down at the green hooded sweatshirt she’d given him. Unwillingly, his thoughts went to the man who had worn it before, someone who had held Sansa in his arms, who had probably kissed her and _more._ It suddenly felt very odd against his skin.

She laughed. “Yeah. He was massive, almost six foot five. I’d been taller than all the others so far, so that was a nice change at least.”

She was taller than Theon. Noticeably so. He wondered if that bothered her at all. It didn’t bother him.

“And then…and then there was Ramsay.” Sansa’s voice trembled a bit on this last point. A sudden chill seemed to fill the car, and Theon was not sure he was entirely ready to hear about this person, whoever he was.

“What was he like?” he asked tentatively.

Sansa took a sharp breath, her hands tightening on the wheel. He knew for sure now, something about this one was different from the others. He was about to tell her she didn’t have to explain anything to him if she didn’t want to, when she spoke. Spoke in a small, tight voice that was not like her.

“He was…probably one of the worst people I’ve ever met.” She glanced quickly at him. “I’m not really…I don’t really want to talk about him too much, if that’s all right.”

“It is. Don’t, I don’t want to upset you.” His mind raced unpleasantly, unwillingly, through different ideas of all the things he could have done to scare her like this.

“Thank you,” she said. “I just…it’s a very long story. And not a happy one. One I don’t feel like reliving right now.”

He knew the feeling. Knew it very well. “I understand. You really don’t have to.”

“He…didn’t treat me well. That’s all you need to know.”

Why in the world, he wondered, would someone – _could_ someone – dare to treat her badly? What had Sansa ever done to deserve unkindness?

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I…I’ve known cruel people too. I’m sorry couldn’t avoid them either.”

She smiled a small, sad smile. “They aren’t easy to avoid.” Her face softened looking at him, though she glanced back at the road quickly after. He could tell her mind was somewhere else.

“You aren’t like them,” she said quietly, “you don’t treat me like they did. Even the not-so-bad ones, you treat me better than them. I don’t know how to say it…I’m glad you’re here now, and not any of them.”

Theon swallowed, his throat tight. Once again he remembered the touch of her lips and shuddered, brushing the thought away. Why, he wondered, was he being mentioned now, looped in with a group of old boyfriends? It sounded almost as if Sansa was _comparing_ him to people she’d…but that was absurd.

It was a bad idea, a very, very bad idea, but he felt something was daring him to continue on, to not break the conversation.

“And how…how am I better?” Just saying it made him cringe inwardly.

But she looked thoughtful. And – or maybe was he imagining it – slightly flustered?

“You…well, you listen, for one. You’re a good listener. You seem like you actually care about what I have to say. Even…even back at my place, when I hardly knew you at all…you’d just listen to me when I talked to you.”

Her eyes went to him but he glanced away, heart beating very fast. What was the matter with him?

“And you’re…kind. Some of the things you’ve told me…they’re just really nice, Theon. You’re nice. That sounds so lame, but it’s true. You’re just a really nice, honest person.”

 _Now_ his face was heating up. What had he been thinking, asking such a stupid question?

“You’re – you’re nice too,” he said awkwardly.

Sansa gave a harsh laugh. “That’s not something I’ve been told very often. I’ve been called lots of things, good things sometimes, but never…never _nice.”_

“But you are.” How could she not see that? “You…you’re kind, and generous, and you – you care about people. You don’t give up on people.”

Her mouth twitched. “So I’m stubborn?”

“Well, yes. In a good way.”

He watched her carefully, her firm but delicate grip on the steering wheel, the way her hair fell around her. When she wasn’t looking, he could not help watch.

“And you’re…you’re strong,” he added quietly, “you’ve had so much happen, but you’re still kind, you still help people. Even though…even though you’ve seen a lot of – of bad things, you haven’t forgotten how to be kind.”

She slowed suddenly, pulling them to the side of the road. Then she turned in her seat towards him, giving him her full attention. Theon was startled to see that her eyes looked wet.

“You don’t need to say all those things to me,” she whispered, “you don’t.”

“Why not? They’re true.”

Sansa closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache. “You’re just saying that. None of that’s true, it’s just…”

She didn’t believe him. She really, really didn’t believe him.

“Sansa,” he said, shifting as close to her as he could, “those things I’ve said, I mean them. All of them. You can’t think they aren’t true.”

She shook her head. “I just…I tried so hard. To be _good._ And it never worked out. So I’ve just…I’ve stopped trying. It’s not fair that you can say all that now, when you never knew me before. When I was at my worst.”

“I doubt your worst could be that bad.”

She smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. “You don’t know that. That’s the thing, you only know me from…everything that’s happened between us. You think I’m this – this good person, but you shouldn’t. I’m not, or I wasn’t always.” She sniffed. “I don’t deserve a – a friend like you.”

“Sansa, it’s _me_ who doesn’t deserve _you._ I’m not…I’m not…” He struggled for words, more flustered than he cared to admit. When he managed to sort himself out, he found Sansa staring back at him.

“We ought to be kinder to ourselves,” she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

Theon opened his mouth, then closed it. “Maybe we do.”

The space between them was very small, the car suddenly feeling tight and airless.

In Theon’s memory, her lips touched his.

He looked away from her, pulling back into his own seat. Why, why did his heart beat like that when he looked at her? Why could he never _breathe?_ It was uncomfortable and strange and he wished he could just look at her, just talk to her without feeling like his whole chest was being squeezed.

She said nothing else, didn’t look over at him as she started the car again. Out of nowhere, he had the horrible thought that he might have insulted her somehow. But he was much too flustered to say anything, even a word of apology.

 _Coward,_ said a voice in his head. The same on that had spoken the night before. Once again, he ignored it.

They drove on. It was strange to see the country during the day, when the world outside the car was not shrouded with shadows. The dense walls of forest had gone, replaced by wide fields and farmland. A light dusting of snow lay over everything, not as much as had covered the town they’d come from a week ago, but enough that the dry, dead grass glinted in the morning light.

Theon felt pangs of familiarity as they drove by, though he could not think where they might originate from. From what he remembered, the countryside didn’t look that much different from what surrounded his old home, whether they were close to the spot or not, so perhaps it was only a false memory. Occasionally he saw the distant smudges of other towns and villages, and wondered which one might be the one in which Sansa had grown up.

He wondered which might be the one in which he himself grew up.

The road forked, and Sansa drove left. Just after the turn they passed a road sign:

WINTERTOWN, 4 MILES.

It took a moment to sink in, and once it did he thought his heart might stop. It was impossible. An impossible coincidence…there was no way…

“Wintertown,” he said hollowly. “ _That’s_ where we’re going?”

Sansa looked surprised. “Yes, why?”

“You didn’t…you didn’t tell me you grew up there.”

“Well, I did. Is something wrong with that? Why are you looking like that?”

He swallowed. “Because that’s where _I_ grew up.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “You did? But then…did we _know_ each other?”

Theon shook his head slowly, though his thoughts were racing, fighting to remember. “I don’t think so. I don’t – I don’t remember your family at all. My own wasn’t really the sociable sort.”

“But we might have gone to the same school! My brothers would have only been a year behind you.”

“Honestly Sansa, I don’t remember. I don’t mean to offend you, but I don’t think I’d remember them even if I’d met them. I didn’t really talk to many people back then.”

Now that the shock of this new revelation had worn off, he was struck by a morbid curiosity. Had any of his classmates or teachers noticed, when he’d mysteriously disappeared all those years back? Had they cared at all? What had his father and sister told people? He felt both a deep, deep anxiety about going back to that familiar place and a longing so great it almost hurt. He could go home…really go home. Even if not many memories he had from there were entirely happy, it was still _home._

And the Lab…would they find him here? Still he had no idea how they had managed to find him when he was staying with Sansa, but would they suspect he had come back to his hometown? Would they look for him here?

Sansa was watching him sideways. “You’re worried about going back.”

He hesitated. “I’m afraid they’ll find us here. They know where I came from, this is where they _took_ me from. If there’s anywhere I would go back to, this would be it.  Or at least, that’s what they would think.”

Sansa nodded solemnly. “I understand. But we don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“We don’t?”

“It would…it would mean a lot to see my brother again. To come back here again. But it’s like you said, we’ll be in danger anywhere we go. I say we tell Jon everything, and see if he has any advice for us; someplace we could go next, any way we can find supplies, or -  or a place to stay…”

“Sansa…I know you’d like to stay with him. If you think we should keep living there for a while, we can. “

She shook her head. “No. No, you were right, it’s too dangerous. I don’t want to pull anyone else into this.”

“Like I pulled you into it.” He couldn’t help himself from saying it.

Sansa gave him a look. “You didn’t pull me into anything. I had plenty of time to kick you out of my life and send you on your way, but I didn’t. How many times do I need to say it? I’m not here because you dragged me down, I’m here because I jumped in with you.”

Theon swallowed his protests, knowing it was worthless to argue.

He kept watching her drive, slender fingers drumming against the wheel and eyes narrowed in concentration.

“There’s something I realized,” she said. “If you and I grew up in the same place, that means you and  Robb grew up in the same place as well. And he was my brother…they found us when we were at _my_ house…that can’t be a coincidence.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, what if it wasn’t you who was being tracked? What if it was me? Maybe they – they kept tabs on us, even after Robb was gone. And when you escaped, and they found out I was living not so far away, they thought they would check on a hunch and turned out to be right?”

Theon thought about it. It was possible, or at least not impossible. Who knew the limits of what these people could do?

“Maybe. But then – then your brother really would be in danger. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“We need somewhere to stay, only for a few nights. If anything happens that seems like it’s getting too dangerous, we’ll leave. I promise.”

He said nothing. No matter how many times she said it, no matter how many times she told him they wouldn’t be found, he felt a constant sense of unease. They had no plan, all they were doing was running further into unfamiliar territory. For that was what this was; despite his spending the first fourteen years of his life here, he felt as though he were throwing himself into someplace completely unknown to him.

Still, it was home.

Something in his heart tugged sharply when he thought about it. _Home._ The one place he’d thought he would never see again.

No wonder it had all looked familiar – it _was_ familiar. Although he hadn’t left town very often during his childhood, he knew what the immediate surrounding landscape looked like well enough. And, his stomach dropped as he remembered, this would have been near where he had been taken that day. Somewhere between here and where Sansa now lived was the Lab, and that lonely, stretch of road that bordered it. While he could not remember details of that first journey, he could very well have been taken near or along this very route. The thought sent a prickle down his spine.

It wasn’t long before he saw signs of the town approaching. Something clenched tight around his heart as they passed another sign saying, WELCOME TO WINTERTOWN.

He was here. He’d come back, as much as they’d tried to stop it from happening.

Yara was here, he realized with another jolt. Or would she be? Had she left this place as soon as she was able, to leave behind all the memories?

 _Don’t go yet,_ he thought, as if his sister could hear him, _I’m right here. I’ve come back._

 

Wintertown slowly faded into existence. Here and there Theon saw familiar street names, buildings he’d walked past dozens of times, each one coming with a sharp little pang in his chest. It was the same, somehow. He’d half expected it to all be gone.

It was by the shores of a lake…he’d almost forgotten that. How he’d managed to forget when it was so big – a more accurate term would have been ‘inland sea’ – he did not know. But with every foot they drove further into it, the more he remembered. He used to walk the few blocks from his house to the beach, sitting there until the sun went down or Yara came to find him. At first it had been to avoid his parents’ arguments, and later on he’d done it when everything else was simply…too much.

It was where he’d learned to swim, too. He’d gone swimming with his sister there on summer days when they were very young, pretending they were fish or creatures of the deep…

And that dingy tackle shop his father had run and refused to shut down even when it was barely in business…was it still there? Was his father – it gave him an odd jolt to think of it – even still alive? So many questions, none of which he was sure he wanted the answers to or not.

There were some signs of the time that had passed. Businesses that had changed hands several times over, a restaurant painted completely differently than how he’d remembered. On one corner there was nothing but a deep construction pit dotted with empty cranes, but he was sure something had been there before…maybe a clinic? He couldn’t remember exactly.

And amongst all that were _people._ Tired parents with fussy children, a group of teenagers cackling at some joke, a young couple walking arm in arm…it was different from seeing the people back at Sansa’s town. These were _his_ people, that he’d grown up with, that he might have gone to school with…

Sansa caught his stunned expression and gave him a gentle smile. “Welcome home.”

They turned off the main street, past rows of houses. Theon wasn’t sure how much he recognized and how much he didn’t; but he knew this side of town was not the neighborhood in which he had grown up. He thought maybe he could find his way, though, if he had to. His feet might remember the way, even if his mind did not.

Soon they were driving down a street Theon knew he had never been down during his childhood. The houses were larger, the lawns better groomed than anything where he had come from. He would have stayed away from this area, by instinct. He hadn’t known – hadn’t thought – that Sansa might come from a family that lived in a place like this.

Strangely, she looked nearly as anxious as he felt as she drove slowly down the quiet street, tapping one foot in a rhythm.

“I haven’t been here in a really long time,” she explained, “I’ve visited once, a few months ago, but other than that…”

“So you haven’t seen your brother in all that time?”

“Well, I’ve seen him. And the other two. Just not here. We’d meet up places, or I’d have them over…and Bran and Arya are still in uni anyway, they don’t have very much time.”

“Did you do that too? Go to school, I mean.”

“No. Everyone thought I would, but there wasn’t anything I wanted to study. I got a job as an intern right away and stayed with my aunt while saving up my money, eventually I left and started renting out my own place. That was when I was still with Harry,” she added.

“Wasn’t there anything you wanted to…be?” _What do you want to be when you grow up?_ The inevitable question of childhood, one Theon himself had never been able to properly answer.

She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t really know,” she said finally. “I wanted to be some kind of artist for a while, a painter or a photographer or something like that. Or a designer of some sort. And then when I was older…I don’t know, I thought about teaching. I thought about a lot of things.”

She glanced over at him. “What about you?”

Theon thought about it. What had he wanted, way back then? He tried to remember, to pull himself back and imagine all the things he might have wanted to be and do as a child. But as hard as he tried, he could not come up with a distinct answer.

“I think I was like you,” he said, “there were a lot of things…none of them really ever stuck. I don’t think there was ever anything I thought I _could_ be.”

“What would you do now? If you could go back, if you had a second chance…”

The question caught him off guard. “I don’t know. I’d…I’d need to think about that.” In another time, maybe he’d think about it. Another time when either of them were not in the position they were now.

“What does your brother do?” he asked, trying to diffuse the tension a little.

“Film stuff,” she said. “Dany’s an actor – his girlfriend, that is – and Jon does camerawork. They went to the same school. She’s a _city person.”_

Theon nodded, as if he understood the implication behind this new information, but he didn’t. Another thought came to him, one dredged up from memories of staying in Sansa’s living room, of the very first careful conversations they had had with each other.

“Sansa…how exactly is Jon related to you? I remember, you said – you said it was complicated. That he wasn’t _completely_ your brother, what did you mean by that?”

Sansa frowned slightly, but Theon thought it looked thoughtful rather than upset.

“It’s a long story,” she said, “he _is_ my brother, in all respects, we grew up together and he’s never been any less than that. But if you want to be technical, he’s my cousin. His mother was my dad’s sister, she had him when she was really young and then she died not long after…it was this whole awful thing...” She waved her hand expressively. “Anyway, my dad adopted Jon after that, and he grew up with us. So he’s my brother…but it’s complicated.”

Theon nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sansa glancing over at him. “I thought of something,” she said gently. “If you lived here…would your sister still be-?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t blame her if she’d moved away. She wouldn’t have had the best memories here.”

To that Sansa didn’t have a response.

 

Soon they stalled in front of a large, but unassuming grey house with a bright red door. It looked old, older than most of the other houses on the street. The front yard showed off a clump of shrubs and one spindly tree. In another time of year the whole front walk would be shrouded in green.

“We’re here,” said Sansa, an odd tone to her voice, “I’ll explain things to my brother, as much as I can. We’ll just…just let him know everything that’s been going on, see what he says. If you – if he asks you about things and it gets too much, just tell me and I can step in. Okay?”

He nodded silently.

“Oh,” she said darkly as they pulled into the driveway, “and just to make sure –  you’re not afraid of lizards or snakes or anything, are you?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never really met one.”

“Well, you’re about to.” Her frown deepened as she shifted into park. “Jon’s girlfriend has this massive pet lizard, she lets it roam all around the house, it’s this horrible scaly thing.” She shuddered. “It isn’t even _cute._ It’s all green and dry, how can you pet something like that? But last time I was here she kept cooing at it and calling it her _baby.”_

Theon was almost certain he’d heard Sansa refer to Lady as _her_ baby at least once, but felt this wouldn’t be the best time to mention it.

The motor shuddered to silent. Once again the realization sunk in that Theon would have to meet someone new – Sansa’s family, at that – and talk to them, and he was trying hard to prepare himself.

“It’ll be all right,” Sansa said, “just…just stick by me. I know you’re nervous.”

He nodded curtly. What would Sansa’s brother be like? Something about the fact that they were related, that made it all more difficult. Would he blame Theon for putting his sister in danger? Would he even want him setting foot in his house at all? Suddenly he had no desire to step out of the car ever again.

Sansa took his elbow as they stepped out into the cool air. That gave him a small amount of relief. _He’s with me,_ she seemed to say without words. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

She took a deep breath herself when they reached the door, still holding onto him as she went to knock with the other hand.

A pause, in which Theon half hoped no one would answer, but then the door opened. A young man stood on the other side, around Theon’s own age. Jon. He couldn’t help noticing that he looked nothing like Sansa; he had curly dark hair and his eyes were brown, and he was much shorter.

 Jon’s eyes went from her to Theon, standing behind her as much as he could without making it look like he was hiding.

“Sansa?” he said uncertainly. Then a smile spread over his face. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to visit.”

He hugged her. She responded, but stiffly, pulling away almost right away. “I need to talk to you.”

The man’s – Jon’s – face fell at her expression, and his eyes went to Theon. “Sansa, who is that? What’s going on?”

Before she could answer, Theon saw someone else approach the doorway; a small woman with white blonde hair wearing a red cardigan, and looking just as surprised as Jon. She smiled at the two of them as well, but it looked a little stiff.

“We weren’t expecting you, what a nice surprise!” She turned to Theon as well. “Who’s this?”

Sansa’s voice was tight. “Can we come in? We’re not here for a – a visit, I really need to talk to you.”

Jon came forward, frowning. “Sansa, what’s going on? You show up after not visiting for months, and you don’t want to just…catch up first?”

“I don’t have time – _we_ don’t have time for that, Jon, please…”

He glanced behind him at the blonde woman, who was watching the interaction quizzically. “Okay…okay, fine. Come on.”

He opened the door wider to let them in. Sansa put one hand on Theon’s shoulder, gently urging him forward ahead of her.

They stepped into a room larger than what he’d expected. Even from the outside, he hadn’t realized how _big_ Sansa’s old house would be. He could be remembering wrong, but in his memory his own childhood home could have fit inside this one. Clean wood surfaces, a long hallway stretching ahead of him to the rooms beyond. A large kitchen splayed out to his right, and on his left a carpeted living room full of _matching_ furniture.

These people – Sansa’s people – had money _._

He couldn’t help looking around as he took off his jacket, even when Sansa tugged him over to the sofa. Jon stood in front of them with his arms folded, Dany a little behind him still glancing between the two of them with a frown.

Sansa stood clutching her own coat, knuckles going pale. When she spoke there was an edge to her voice. “Dany, I’m sorry but I really need to speak with my brother. Alone.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Why can’t she hear what you have to say?”

“Please, I’m serious, this isn’t-“ She rubbed at her eyes, looking more tired and panicked than Theon had ever seen her.

“It’s okay.” If Dany was hurt by her rejection, it did not show in her voice. “You two talk, I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to-“

She touched him lightly on the arm, giving him a pointed look, before leaving down the hallway. Theon made to follow her, but Sansa held him back.

“Not you. You stay.”

“But you said that –“

She guided him firmly to the sofa, pulling him down next to her. Theon noted what looked like a family photograph hanging on the wall opposite, and a small, still decorated Christmas tree in the corner.

Jon sat across from them, still frowning. While he didn’t nervously twist his hands together the way Sansa often did, he clasped them very tightly in front of him.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “You don’t have to push her away all the time.”

Sansa waved a hand impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. You can tell her whatever you want later, but now I just want to talk to you. Please, can you just – just hear me out.”

“Fine, so explain it to me. You show up the day after Christmas with some stranger, with no warning, both of you look like you haven’t slept in days…what the hell is going on, Sansa?”

She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. Theon felt a weight of dread in his chest. Would Jon help them after he knew? Would he even believe them at all? He had a terrible feeling this was all going to go wrong.

“Okay,” she said, “okay. This is…it’s complicated. And it’s weird. And I don’t really know where to start.”

“Maybe the beginning?” He looked suspiciously at Theon. “Who is this? Not to be rude or anything, but I’ve never seen you before. You a friend of hers? Someone she met at work?”

Theon flinched at his harsh, accusatory tone.

“This is Theon,” said Sansa, “he’s a – a friend.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed further. Despite just having met this man, Theon could tell the look directed at him was one of intense dislike.

“A friend. And where did you meet each other?”

“He – he found me, it doesn’t matter-“

“Doesn’t matter? He ‘found you,’ what the hell does that mean?”

Sansa waved her hands frantically. “It just means – it doesn’t _matter,_ Jon, I’ve told you. We know each other. And I trust him. That’s all you need to know, okay?”

She took a sharp breath and continued, “Jon, he’s like Robb,” she said bluntly, “He’s from…that place they tried to take him. He’s escaped, and he found me…”

Jon paled. Theon saw the knuckles gripping each other turn white. There was a long, very tense pause in which he seriously considered running out the door right there and then.

“ ‘Like Robb’,” Jon said hollowly. “You mean he’s-“

“Yes. Exactly what you’re thinking.”

He shook his head slowly, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “You’re joking. This is some sort of insane trick, isn’t it? He can’t be…that’s not possible…”

He would never believe it. Already Theon started making plans…where could they go next? If they couldn’t stay here…what was near Wintertown? He didn’t know, couldn’t remember…

“Jon, you have to believe us. We need your help-“

“Why? They’re after you, aren’t they? The same people who killed Robb, who killed our parents, they’re after you two now – because _he_ escaped?” Theon flinched again.

 _He blames me,_ he thought, _and I don’t blame him for it._

Sansa looked composed, but her voice was tiny. “Yes.”

“But why would you – _dammit,_ Sansa!” He stood, starting to pace. “This isn’t fair to me, or to Dany, you understand that, don’t you?”

Sansa seemed to shrink. “I know,” she said very quietly.

“I was trying to get away from this stuff. All my life since it happened, I’ve tried to _forget_ it. And now you’ve brought another one of _them_ into our house – into my house – and expect it to all just be fine? Dammit, _dammit.”_

He ran his hands through his hair roughly, as though trying to tear it out. Theon could feel Sansa tensing beside him.

“I tried to get away from it too,” she said, voice shaking, “and it didn’t work, it only came back into my life anyway. I don’t want to hurt you – or Dany – but we need your help, only for a little while…”

“Why did you get involved with him in the first place? You could have just left him alone, left it all alone and not meddled with things and it would all be fine.”

Sansa stood too. At her full height she was noticeably taller than her brother, and her voice was stone cold.

“You’re _insane_ if you think I’d do that. Leave him out on the streets, and let them find him again after what he’d been through? He was a _mess_ when he met me, you should have seen him…it would have been _evil_ to just leave him there…”

Theon felt his face heat up. She didn’t need to be so protective…If only he could make himself speak up…

Jon sighed in frustration, flopping back down into his chair and running one hand over his face. “What do you want me to do?” he said, “I can’t stop them from getting to you, you know that. Dad tried, and look how that ended up. I just…I don’t know what to do with you.”

Sansa sat slowly back down, facing him. She didn’t look angry anymore, just frightened and desperate.

 _We’ll find something else,_ Theon wanted to say, _we can keep going on our own. It’ll be fine._

“If you really need us to leave,” she said quietly, “we’ll leave. We can…I think we can manage. I don’t want you to be in danger, but I just…I thought you could help.”

Jon sighed again, sounding more weary than frustrated. “What do you _want_ me to do? I don’t know how much I _can_ do, I don’t know what the two of you need…”

“Wait – you’re not going to make us leave?”

“No. Of course I’m not going to…” He shook his head. “I’d never turn you away. Any of you. You all know that. But this is mad, Sansa, you have to admit that.”

 “I know. I know it is, and I’m sorry, I really am. We don’t need anything from you, just a place to stay for a couple nights until we figure out what…what we’re going to do next.”

“And then what? When you’ve figured that out, where will you go? How are you going to stop these people finding you?”

Sansa ducked her head. “We don’t know yet. I’m not sure…we’re just trying to get as far away as we can.”

Surprising himself, Theon spoke up. “I think we’ll have to hide out in the country eventually. Somewhere they won’t expect us to be. We’ll need food, tools…and-” he swallowed- “we might need some kind of weapons.”

Jon frowned. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m warning you, this won’t be easy. For any of us.”

“I promise, we’ll only be here for a few days,” said Sansa, “then we’ll leave you both alone, we really will…”

Her brother looked back at her, clearly struggling. Finally he turned fully to her, laying a cautious hand on her arm.

“Sansa,” he said, “this is…this whole thing is insane. Really, really insane. And I don’t know if I can help you that much, I don’t know what I can do that won’t just make everything worse. But I’ll be damned if I don’t at least _try,_ all right? You’re my little sister. I’m not going to just leave you alone to deal with this stuff.”

Sansa let out a huff of breath that sounded almost like a sob. In a second she had thrown her arms around her brother, almost knocking him off balance. Theon watched him pat her back awkwardly before turning away, feeling as though he were intruding. He hadn’t seen much of Jon’s sister in him when he first met him, but he saw a bit of her now in the fierce, unconditional love he showed her.

It reminded him all too well of how she’d spoken to him just nights ago, telling him she would never leave him behind as long as she could help it. Clearly, Jon would do the same for his sister. But leaving Theon behind…if it could help Sansa, it was clear to him he wouldn’t hesitate.

 

For much of the afternoon Sansa stayed with her brother, speaking quietly with him in the living room, filling in the gaps she had left in her story. To Sansa’s evident relief, Dany left at some point, saying she had errands to run. Which left Theon mostly alone in a strange house, not wanting to bother Sansa but just as reluctant to leave her side. At first he hovered by her and her brother, but eventually came to the conclusion that he wasn’t wanted. They needed time with each other, to catch up as family. It didn’t hurt too much – he understood completely – but it put him in a bit of a strange position.

After a while he took to sitting near the front window, watching the street outside grow dimmer and dimmer, lights flickering on the neighboring porches. It still had not fully hit him that he was home; that this was where he had grown up, that he was really back. Perhaps it would come to him later, the shock and emotion of it, but for now it just felt strangely normal. Like he had never left at all.

The whole time he sat he was jumpy and watchful, tensing every time a car went by and always on the lookout for a line of black vans.

At some point, when the sky had grown completely dark, Sansa came to where he was sitting and tapped him on the shoulder.

“We’re going to eat soon,” she told him, “are you hungry?”

He nodded, surprising himself a little. Until then he hadn’t realized it, but he was starving.

She led him over to the kitchen where Jon and Dany were setting out plates and cutlery. He saw them exchange a meaningful look when he came in, and felt his face burn.

“I hope you don’t mind leftovers,” said Dany, nodding to a line of plastic containers on the counter, “we made much more than we can eat by ourselves last night, so you see it’s a good thing you two showed up.” She smiled at Theon in a way that was likely meant to be reassuring, but he just felt sick.

Despite his awkwardness, he approached them cautiously. He ought to try and assist with setting the table at least. “Can I…do you need help with any of that?”

Dany looked startled. “No, that’s all right. You’re a guest, you don’t need to help with anything.”

Theon could sense suspicion concealed behind her outward friendliness. How much had Jon told her? Did she feel as he probably did, that they were intruding on them and bringing them into a danger they wanted no part of? She must. She would have to.

He sat down like she’d said, but felt yet another well of guilt rising inside him. How many more innocent people was he going to pull into this mess _he’d_ created?

Sansa sat down beside him, giving his hand a quick squeeze under the table. At least she was there, at least she had chosen to be with him.

Jon and Dany sat across from them. Theon decided to stop looking at everyone, and turned his attention back to his food as a way to ignore the rest of his thoughts. There was some chicken, a small pile of peas, and roasted potatoes. He tried  to take his time and not to devour it all too quickly.

There was quiet for a while, little noise in the room but chewing and scraping of forks. Eventually Jon cleared his throat, starting awkwardly to speak.

“So…Sansa, how’s work going?”

Sansa sipped her water. “I got laid off three weeks ago,” she said calmly, “so not the best it’s ever been.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t – “

“It’s fine. And how’s yours? I was surprised you were even back here, I thought you’d be in the city.”

Theon glanced up just enough to see Jon looking significantly more uncomfortable. “Well, we’re both between gigs at the moment. So we thought it’d be nice to come back here for the holidays, it’s just more comfortable. You haven’t seen our place in the city, it’s pretty tiny.”

“Did you talk to the family at all?”

“Yeah, yesterday. Did a video call with Bran, and I tried to get Arya in too but she wouldn’t answer.”

Sansa’s head snapped up. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine. When I texted her later she just responded with, ‘I was with friends, leave me alone.’”

“I sent her something, but it was a little late, did she-?”

“I don’t know, she didn’t say. Ask her yourself if you like.”

Sansa was quiet again, pushing her fork around the plate. Theon wanted to ask her why this would be a problem, but kept quiet. He thought it best to not add to the conversation unless he had to.

“Where do you two want to sleep?” This was Dany. It took Theon a moment to realize he was being spoken to. “The renters are using the second floor, but you can stay in the room down the hall-”

Sansa’s fork clattered to her plate. “What _renters?”_

Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We started renting the top floor to this couple a while back. We’ve still got this floor and the basement, and they get to use the back room and that staircase, so it’s no problem with them getting in. They’ve gone off for the holidays, though.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s…I mean…look, Sansa, we don’t make that much money. It takes a lot to keep up a big place like this, and with our apartment in the city as well it’s just…a lot.”

Sansa’s look was fierce. “You’re not thinking of _selling_ it?”

“No. Of course not. But the only way we can keep it at all is by letting someone rent part of it out.”

She swallowed tightly, looking back down at her plate. Jon sighed. “Look, they’re nice people. It’s not like they’re going to trash this place or anything.”

“But this is _our_ home. It just feels…oh, never mind. I understand. As long as you’re not getting rid of it.”

“No, we never would. Never will.”

She nodded, still looking at her plate. Theon opened his mouth to speak – a whole slew of new questions had come about in his mind with this new bit of conversation – but thought better of it. He ended up just turning back to his chicken.

Just as silence had begun to fall back on the table, he was startled by a sudden dragging, clicking noise coming from the hall outside the kitchen. He saw Sansa tense visibly beside him, but Dany brightened considerably.

“There he is! I knew he’d want to come say hello. Drogon, go see the visitors.”

‘Drogon’ was a very large green lizard – an iguana, Theon thought it must be – that came skulking around the table to where Theon sat, scaly body slithering along the floor. He could almost hear Sansa grinding her teeth as it crawled under her chair.

“Dany, can you _please_ not let that thing into the kitchen while we’re eating?”

Dany bristled. “He’s not ‘that thing,’ and he isn’t doing any harm. He just wants to see you...”

The lizard’s tongue lashed out, tasting the air. It’s beady eyes stared out from under heavy, blueish lids, a loose drape of skin hanging along its neck. Theon was slightly unnerved by its alien appearance, but it didn’t seem all too threatening.

“You can pet him if you like,” said Dany, “he likes that.”

Uncertainly, he reached down and gave the lizard a brief pat on the head. He was, as Sansa had said, very dry and scaly – and his eyes kept going back to those long claws – but he had to admit there was something oddly charming about him. He was about to tell Sansa this fact, but then he saw her close-to-murderous look and decided against it.

The lizard scuttled back to Dany, where Theon could see one clawed foot pawing at her knee, dog-like.

“You’ve already eaten, leave mummy be. I can come give you a treat later, you big baby.”

He heard it slink away. Beside him, he could tell Sansa was refraining from rolling her eyes with great difficulty.

Dany met his eyes. “You’ll have to meet him properly later, he’s very sweet.”

“Except when he’s trying to eat your fingers,” Sansa muttered. Unfortunately, the other woman heard and glared at her.

“He doesn’t eat meat, he likes _lettuce.”_

“And what about those claws? You’re trying to tell me those aren’t dangerous at all?”

 Jon looked pained. “Let’s just…leave this for a minute, can we?”

Sansa pursed her lips but said nothing else. For a little while there was no other sound but the scraping of forks against plates. Theon thought he should say something apologetic, but he wasn’t sure to whom so he kept his mouth shut yet again.

After a while Sansa put down her utensils and faced her brother. “Thank you for the food,” she said rather stiffly, “and for…everything. We’re both grateful. Really.”

The two across from them exchanged glances. “Are you two going to bed?” asked Jon, “we’ve kept your old room as a guest room, Sansa, you can sleep there.”

“All right. Thanks, we – we might.”

She turned to Theon. “I can stay here and help clean up. You should rest.”

His face burned as he felt the attention of them back on him. “I’m fine.”

“You had the flu for a week, didn’t you?”

“That was a while ago…”

She gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Go. I’ll be there later.”

Theon could feel the eyes of all three of them on him as he stood up. He hated the way they were all looking at him, the way he _knew_ they were all looking at him. How could he stand here, eat their food and sleep in their house, when he was not only a complete stranger but someone whose very presence put them in danger? The anger the frustration, all built up so strongly in front of him he almost could not breathe. He fought against the paralyzing guilt, managing a jerky nod before shuffling towards the doorway.

“Wait a minute,” said Dany, standing up as well, “I should show you where you’re going.”

Theon dared himself to raise his eyes. She was going to help him…why? If he fought to look past his own panic, he could see she _didn’t_ look angry, at least maybe she didn’t. He relaxed a little. “Oh. All right, thank you.”

She led him out of the room, gently taking his arm as she did so. He couldn’t help flinching a little, but left his arm where it was.

The hall was dark and shadowy ahead of them. Theon followed Dany’s small but straight form, wishing partly that he had stayed back in the kitchen with Sansa. On the other hand, however, at least this way he would be allowed to be alone, and in bed. He did feel quite tired.

At the end of the hallway she pushed open a door, revealing the small bedroom beyond. Sansa’s old room, Jon had said, from when she had lived here.

Dany marched in, turning on a lamp by the bed. Theon shuffled in after her. It was a comfortable room, but small, and with little indication that a young girl had once lived there. Perhaps they had redecorated.

Dany was looking at him intently, and like she wasn’t sure whether to trust him or not. He didn’t blame her.

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” he said, “thank you. I mean it – thank you.”

She gave a tight smile. “Whatever we can do to help.”

She left him alone in the little room. Alone to think. He flicked off the light and crawled into bed, trying  just to let his limbs relax. This time, he didn’t think twice about the idea that Sansa would be sleeping beside him. It was becoming almost normal.

But like usual, the more he tried to make his brain shut off, the more unpleasant thoughts crept in and bounced around, making that impossible. His heart sank when he thought of Jon and Dany and all they were risking for he and Sansa. It wasn’t fair to them – _none_ of it was fair. All the danger they were in, just to keep them safe…

A tight iron band seemed to squeeze around his chest, making it impossible to breathe. What had he done? _What had he done?_

His throat tightened, he struggled to breathe deep and not let any tears to squeeze out. It was all his fault, all his fault…

_Breathe. Breathe._

They didn’t have to stay here. Sansa had said it herself, if things got too complicated, or too dangerous, they could leave and then…go wherever they needed to go. Or…

Another idea came to him, one he had dismissed before but now came back to somewhat unwillingly. He could, if he had to…it was always an option…

This new thought wasn’t really a comfort, but it gave him something of a plan. A strategy to fall back on if things really went awry. At least he had that.

Eventually his thoughts calmed a little, enough for him to fall asleep. Tomorrow, maybe, he would be able to sort them out properly. He could talk to Jon, and Dany too, explain more of his situation, tell them how sorry he was…

He only hoped they could understand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo it's back  
> Guess what? I haven't abandoned this and I'm still alive! Yay! Here is finally the next chapter, so sorry for leaving you all in the void while I snail-wrote. This is a shorter one than usual because it was originally one long chapter that was way TOO so I decided to split it up. Here we have a conversation between Theon and Dany, and a tiny bit of other stuff. Once again, have fun.

Sometime later, he was woken up by a sudden bright light near his head. He jumped, forgetting for a few seconds where he was, and then Sansa’s face came into view.

“Sorry.” She looked it. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I can turn the light back off.”

Theon ran a thumb over his temple, wondering why there was a dull ache there. Then he remembered his tears. Hopefully there was no evidence of them on his face.

“No – don’t bother. I’m awake.”

Sansa let out a huff, flopping down on the bed beside him. She’d changed, he realized, maybe she’d kept some of her old clothes in this house.

He could almost hear her teeth grinding. “She’s turned the entire basement into a damned lizard room! I went down there for a minute, just to see if it’s changed at all, and there was this enormous glass tank full of leaves and twigs and _dirt…”_ She groaned, covering her face. “And when I was going back up the stairs it came down and brushed right past me, I could _feel_ its awful scaly body…” She shuddered. “I hate that thing. I hate it being in the house, crawling all over, all over the furniture and scratching it up with those _claws…”_

Theon kept quiet. She turned to glare at him. “You didn’t _like_ it, did you?”

“Well,” he said, struggling for words, “I mean…it – he – wasn’t so bad. I don’t know, he was…sort of cute.”

Sansa looked disgusted. “Cute? Honestly? You weren’t…creeped out by it at all?”

“Well…maybe a little. I suppose I’ll get used to him being around though.”

“Ugh.” Sansa shook her head. “I’ll never get used to him. And the worst part is, he got along just fine with Lady when I was here before. Kept crawling all over her and she would just _let_ him, it was awful, I didn’t even want him touching her with his _scales.”_

Once again, Theon kept quiet. While he had become more accustomed to Lady during the time he’d lived with Sansa, he truly didn’t mind Drogon either. Sansa was right about the claws being slightly unnerving, but at least he was friendly.

“Theon?” He glanced back at her and saw her frowning slightly. “Are you okay? You look…off.”

He had no intention of telling her what he had told himself earlier that night, the thoughts that had spun around his mind.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“What do you think of them?”

Think of them? Theon hardly knew what to think of them, other than worry that they would have him thrown out any minute.

“They…they’re nice people.”

Sansa gave him a look. “They won’t hurt us. Either of them. I know it must be – very strange – for you to meet all these new people, but I promise you they won’t let anything bad happen to us. Not while we’re here.”

Her voice was strong, reassuring. He wanted to believe her.

On impulse he lay down beside her, still on top of the covers. She turned her head to him.

“It’s just hard,” he said, “to see them so happy, and know that just by being here I’m making them unhappier than they need to be.”

He thought she would say the same things she’d been saying; that he didn’t need to worry, that his safety was more important than any trouble he may be causing them.

Instead, she said, “It’s hard for me too.”

She didn’t need to say anything else. He understood enough.

 

In the few days that passed, Theon found it hard to remind himself he wasn’t caught in some strange dream. He hadn’t _lived_ with people other than Sansa, people who didn’t wear white coats and prod him with sharp objects, that is, since he was a child. It had been strange enough living with just her, but now it was not one but three people he found himself with. Things were tight between everybody. Theon was unsure if this was a new development or just how it usually was between Sansa and the remains of her family, but either way he sensed a strong tension in the air. It occurred to him that maybe it was his fault, and once that happened he was careful not to stay in the room with anyone for too long.

Dany’s lizard continued to wander the house during the day, much to Sansa’s dismay. His unpredictable appearances would startle Theon at first, but in time he grew used to hearing its claws clicking along the hardwood, or entering a room to see a green, scaly lump in the corner. He got used to the non-reptilian inhabitants of the house as well, all the tiny differences in the way they acted with each other. He found himself watching Sansa a lot, trying to understand what was normal for her and trying to catch glimpses of what she might have been before he had met her.

One day he had followed Sansa into the kitchen where she sat talking with her brother. He felt almost embarrassed at the way he only ever followed her around, hardly speaking but hovering like a confused shadow. But it was far too strange to be on his own, either to wander around the house or stay in their room and hide. At the same time, he had no desire to be around anyone. Kind people they may be, but their presence made him uncomfortable. He didn’t _know_ them.

The longer he sat at the table, sometimes listening to Jon and Sansa and sometimes tuning them out completely, the deeper embarrassment he felt. He shouldn’t be sitting here, awkwardly silent, clearly wishing he could be anywhere else, that was rude wasn’t it? Would it be more impolite to get up and leave, to hide himself away and not interact with anybody? Neither choice seemed very good, but still he felt discomfort and shame creeping over him like an extra layer. It had not become uncommon for him to have these feelings over the past few days, and it was usually then that Those Thoughts came back into his head.

They started to come back again as he sat there with Sansa and her brother, nipping at his brain until he couldn’t help but acknowledge them. He could do it, easily. There could be a way, if he snuck away sometime no one was looking…

Soon he could stand it no longer. Muttering an excuse to Sansa he got up and scurried out of the room, hoping to find somewhere to be on his own.

He made it as far as the living room, but immediately stopped in the doorway because Dany was in there, fiddling with a dial on the radio. Theon hesitated, knowing he had only a split second before she turned around to go hide somewhere there weren’t _people._

He missed his chance. When her eyes landed on him she quickly managed to fix her features into a smile. “Hello. Did you need something?”

“I – no. Sorry, I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to. Come on in, you’re not bothering me.”

So, not wanting to be rude, he shuffled inside. Perhaps it was for the best. If he talked to her, he might be able to get rid of the thoughts in his head even for a little while. His eyes fell on the family photo he’d seen earlier, propped up on a bookshelf. As he went to it he could feel Dany hovering a little behind him. He tried to ignore her.

The picture showed a small group of children sitting on a fallen tree somewhere. Most had Sansa’s red hair, except for two; a surly little girl and a boy who was clearly Jon. The others…Theon looked carefully at their smiling faces. Three boys, one looked about Jon’s age, the others were younger. One of them – the older one, he assumed – must have been Robb.

“That’s the family,” came Dany’s voice from behind him. “Jon’s the serious one. And I’m sure you can tell who Sansa is.”

He could. Even at a young age she really didn’t look any different.

She was still behind him. He really didn’t want to talk to her – he didn’t want to talk to _anyone_ – but she was there and he didn’t want to be rude either, so he turned around to her.

“How long have you lived here?”

“About six months. Jon and I met a year ago, in film school. Did Sansa tell you that?”

Theon nodded. “She said you’re an actor.”

“Yes. It’s a bit of a weird job, really; if you get something really good you’ll be busier than ever for weeks, and then you might not get anything else for months.” She shook her head. “It’s worth it, though.”

“Are you…are you any good?”

She laughed. “Well, I certainly hope so. Last year I got a good part on the first season of _The Surgeons –_ I play Helen. have you seen it?”

Theon scanned his memory but found nothing. “Um…no. Sorry.”

Dany looked surprised. “Never? It got a lot of popularity when it was released, you haven’t heard of it at all?”

_I’ve only been in the real world for hardly a month, how could I?_

“I’m sorry…no.”

Her eyebrows were still raised. Theon wondered exactly how much Jon had told her about him, if she knew exactly how long he had been away.

“Well, it’s good. Or I think so at least. We’re still waiting to film the second season, they took a long time off in between.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

She shrugged. “A while. I used to do school plays and things when  I was little, and when I realized I could make money from it, it was an easy choice. I used to love singing as well, but I never got very good at it. My brother was a singer too, suppose that’s where I got it all from.”

“You have a brother?”

Something crossed her face, behind her eyes. “I _had_ a brother. He died when I was young.”

“Oh. I’m…really sorry.”

“That’s all right. I never really knew him that well.”

There was a very an awkward pause, their conversation replaced by whatever pop music was pouring out of the radio Dany had been fiddling with. Was it normal for her to casually mention dead family members when talking to people she hardly knew? He would have to ask Sansa.

“I hope Drogon hasn’t been finding his way into your room at night.”

“No, not yet. Does he do that?”

She smiled a little bitterly. “Well. Sansa’s certainly complained about it happening. He’s very friendly, I promise, but if he ever does crawl into your room you can just push him away, he won’t bother you anymore.”

Theon nodded. Her comment on Sansa irked him a little; he quite wished the two of them would stop being bitter about each other, especially to him when he did not feel the urge to agree with either side.

“He doesn’t scare you, does he? Some people are put off by him a bit.”

“No, he’s all right. Is he…the only one you have?” One was all right, but he wasn’t sure how he would deal with three or four wandering around the house and surprising him.

Dany motioned to the couch, and he followed her to sit down. “He is now. I had a little chameleon before, but…well, he got old.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “That’s all right. But he _was_ Drogon’s little brother, they were so sweet together…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m surprised Drogon’s made it this long, actually. There was another time when I tried to keep plants, and I couldn’t make even one of them stay alive for more than a few months. Sometimes I think I’m just not good at taking care of things.”

She sounded very surprisingly morose all of a sudden.

“Well…you’ve taken good care of Drogon.”

“I hope so.”

They sat there awkwardly for several moments. Theon had no idea what he was supposed to say next, or why exactly she was telling him all this. Sansa had done the same thing, he remembered, at the very beginning. She had talked to him about her problems that he had not known how to respond to, despite him not seeing himself as a very good conversationalist at all. Why did this happen? Perhaps it was because he said nothing back, that he did nothing but listen.

“So you…like lizards.”

Dany laughed. “Well, yes. Snakes too, but I’ve never had a snake. My brother had a pet lizard when we were kids, and I’ve liked them ever since.”

“Is that – sorry – is that the brother who sang?”

“No. No, I had two of them.” She gave him a pointed look. “This one’s dead as well. Accidental overdose. I was sixteen.”

Theon struggled for words. He’d thought _his_ family had had problems. “That’s…I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It was a really long time ago. And we didn’t exactly have the best relationship.”

He didn’t want to intrude, so he said nothing. There was a minute where Dany just sat with her gaze somewhere far away, then she shook her head and fixed a smile back on her face. “It was…an odd situation. It’s complicated. But no matter, it’s all behind me now.”

Theon nodded. He wished he could say the same for his own past.

“Do you have siblings?”

A tiny knife stabbed at his heart, poking hole after hole. “One. I’ve got an older sister.”

“And I assume you haven’t seen her in…a while.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, and shook his head. He did not want to talk about Yara.

“Do you think you might, you know, try and find her again? Go back to her?”

Theon understood the implication of that well enough. “I…maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know if she’d want to see me.”

Dany took a deep breath. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about all that. About what’s going on, and what you’re going to do next.”

He swallowed hard. She was going to tell him how much danger he was putting them in, how he never should have come, he didn’t deserve to stay here…

His eyes slowly crept up to Dany sitting across from him in the armchair and watching him closely. The smile had gone from her face, but she didn’t look angry. He couldn’t tell _what_ she looked.

She did not hesitate. “Jon told me about you. About why you’re here. He said you and Sansa are…that you’re _running_ from something. Or someone.”

“We are.”

“And can you tell me any more about that?”

He let out a shaky breath. “It’s…well, it’s because of me. I’m…they’re looking for me. These…people.”

“And who are ‘these people’? Are you in trouble with the law?”

Theon was silent. He couldn’t lie – his mind was completely blank of lies to make up – but the truth seemed stuck in his throat.

Dany leaned forward. “Jon told me about his brother. About Robb. He says…he says he had some kind of _ability,_ and that there was this group that tried to take him away. Is this what you’ve heard?”

He nodded.

“He hadn’t told me that before. He only said his brother died in an accident, but now…so what you’re saying is that you’ve got this ability too?”

He nodded again.

Dany frowned. She breathed out sharply through her nose. “You see…it’s not exactly easy for me to believe that. I don’t know what happened to Jon’s brother, and I don’t know what’s happened to you and Sansa, abut I just…you can _do things,_ with your mind? That’s not _possible,_ that doesn’t make any _sense.”_

An icy sort of pressure was beginning to build up around him, making it difficult to draw breath. How was he supposed to convince her of the truth? If she wouldn’t believe him…

“It’s true,” he managed to get out, “I don’t know…I don’t know what else  I can say…but it’s all true.”

Her face remained stony. Theon looked desperately up at her. “I know what this all looks like, I know it can’t be easy having us here, and I’m _sorry,_ I am, but it’s true.”

The rest of his voice died in his throat. If she was going to tell him to leave, that he wasn’t welcome here, why didn’t she just do it now?

“Show me,” she said. His head snapped up. “Show me what you can do, and I won’t doubt you again. I promise.”

His mouth went very dry. Show her? Show her what? What if he couldn’t? Flashes of memory from the Lab came back, of being forced to demonstrate over and over again….

She was still staring him down but now there was a measure of something else in her expression as well. Curiosity.

“You want me…to show you? Show you what?”

“Anything you can.”

Theon swallowed in an attempt to make his throat feel less like sandpaper. What on Earth was he supposed to do? He couldn’t exhaust himself, but was there nothing small he could do for her? The question was whether or not he would be able to do it without going back to the Lab, without panicking halfway through and turning into a shaking mess.

His eyes fell on a pencil lying on the table in front of them. That couldn’t be too hard, could it?

The metal table, the white walls, all seemed to hover around him somewhere behind the warm reality of Jon and Dany’s living room. He had to do this. If he and Sansa were to stay, to be _understood,_ he had to do this.

Taking a shaky breath, he drew his focus to the pencil and only the pencil. The rest of the room, Dany, even the memories of the Lab all seemed to fall away. Quicker than he had expected, it rose several inches above the table, eventually rising over a foot. There was no strain, no familiar weakness. This in itself surprised himself so much that once he realized it he lost his focus, and the pencil clattered back to the table.

Automatically his hand went to his face, but there was no blood. It had been a long time since he had done something as small as that. He had had a lot of practice since then.

When he turned back to Dany, her mouth had fallen open. She picked the pencil up, examining it, eyes darting between it and Theon.

“How did you do that? What is – where’s the trick?”

“There isn’t one.” Feeling oddly brave, he raised his hand and lifted it again. This time Dany got up, looking at the floating pencil from all angles. She waved her hand between it and his own hand, looking almost frustrated. Theon couldn’t help feeling slightly amused at her disbelief.

Eventually she sat back, still looking bewildered. “I don’t believe it. That’s _impossible…”_

There was an almost hungry look on her face as she kept her eyes on the pencil. A look of longing.

“How do you do it?”

He shrugged, letting the pencil fall once more back to the table. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

 “Is it like…what does it feel like?”

“Well…” it was difficult to explain, once he tried to. “Well. It’s a bit like…like a string. Like there’s a string connecting you to whatever you’re doing it to, and you just – pull it.”

“And that’s – that’s it? Can you _learn?”_

Oh.

“I don’t think so,” he said gently. “With me, it just sort of happened one day. I wasn’t trying to do it, I didn’t know I could do it. I just did. And I still don’t know how.” It was very odd for him to see someone _wanting_ to be like him, if in fact that was what was happening. Weren’t they all supposed to be afraid of him?

“I don’t think it can be learned. Or taught. I’m sorry.”

Dany nodded solemnly. “I’ve just…I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that. It should be impossible. It’s like something out of a _movie.”_  She paused, composing herself. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” she said with dignity.  “But you can’t deny it; it’s completely insane.”

“No, you’re right. I knew you’d be suspicious, it only makes sense. I know it’s unbelievable.”

“So the – place – that Jon’s brother was almost taken to, you were there as well.”

He swallowed. “I was.”

She frowned, looking disturbed. “What was it like in there? What did they want from you?”

Theon hesitated. It wouldn’t be the same to tell her as it had been to tell Sansa. While she seemed kind, and he wasn’t too unsure of her anymore, it still would not be the same.

“They…they weren’t good to me,” he muttered. “I was…they were trying to train me, to use me for something…I never really figured out what it was…”

Dany looked at him very intently. “Did they hurt you?”

“I – yes.”

Her face grew colder, mouth twisting in disgust. He might as well tell her, at least then she wouldn’t have to try and imagine.  “They would…they would make me do what I just did, over and over again until I was too weak to do it anymore. They – they made me do _things_ with it, to other people, to animals…” The words started to stick in his throat, memories resurfacing again. He ducked his head, clasping his hands tight in his lap to hide the fact that they were shaking.

When Dany spoke again her voice trembled with rage. “That’s horrible. It’s completely inhumane, how could that ever be allowed? Jon said they kept you in a _lab?”_

“Yes.”

“And I’ll bet they prodded at you like some sort of test subject. How could they do that to a person? How could the government _allow_ something like this?”

Theon was a little surprised by her reaction. He’d been given sympathy from Sansa, and understanding, when he told her about his time at the Lab. But he hadn’t expected Dany to be so furious.

“It’s vile. You ought to – to press charges, or _something,_ you can’t let them get away with this. What about the other people they’ve done this too, people like Jon’s brother? Did you ever see any of them?”

The question alarmed him a little. “I – no. I was…kept by myself. I knew there were others, but never really saw them…”

Dany was shaking her head silently. “That’s horrible. _Horrible._ You do _know_ that, don’t you? You understand how awful it is?”

He nodded stiffly. “I do. I’d forgotten, for a while, but now…I do.”

“Good.” She reached for his hand, making him flinch slightly, but she only laid her own on top of it and looked intently at him.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Am I…what do you mean?”

“Well, you lived through a really horrible thing, didn’t you? You must be…I mean, that’s not exactly e _asy,_ is it? You should get some help, see a therapist or something.”

Theon felt his face start to heat up. “Oh. I don’t think…I don’t know if that would really be possible...I mean, what would I tell them?” The whole idea seemed so absurd. Him, sitting in some office explaining how he had been taken away from his home to a secret lab in the woods, experimented on for a decade for being able to move things with his mind? It was almost laughable.

“Well, think about it. If you ever have the chance.”

“Um…all right.”

 Dany leaned forward, laying her hand on Theon’s forearm. He flinched again, but kept eye contact with her.

“Those people who ran the place you were in…you’ve got to bring them down. Do whatever it takes, but whoever they are they don’t have the right to do things like that to people. Get your revenge.  _Destroy_ them.”

He pulled back, a bit unnerved by her sudden intensity. “I…I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“I know. But you have to do something, if those people really exist they need someone to stop them. I know it doesn’t seem like it’s possible, but if you get the chance -” the grip on his arm tightened- “burn them to the ground.”

It _wasn’t_ that simple, but some of what she was saying seemed to rub off on him, her anger at the injustice of it all bleeding into his own thoughts. He saw the Lab in his mind’s eye, those white walls and steel tables, the Managers with their cold hands and instruments…

And he saw it all going up in flames.

He swallowed. “I will.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again with some...fun times. I'm hoping to start posting these more regularly again, it's been Too Long. Our heroes have gotten into some deep shit, lets see how that works out >:)

The days crept by in a slow, meandering way after that. A good amount of the snow outside melted and the skies were washed with a bright winter sun. Though the four of them tried to go on as normally as they could, Theon sensed the underlying strain within it all. He felt that all of them were waiting for something, and none knew exactly what. His nights were disturbed, dreams full of dark and faceless terrors. When he wasn’t sleeping he was afraid to do so, and lay staring at the opposite wall without really seeing it, Sansa’s warm back pressed against his. It never occurred to him to wake her, she needed no more trouble right now.

He was getting on edge partly from spending so much time in the house. Sansa seemed so too, at least when they had been at her place they had gone out occasionally, but now the two of them seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement not to risk that again, with how that had turned out.

So they remained in the house, Theon still often retreating to wherever no one else was. Sometimes he couldn’t help running into one of them, which he was getting steadily used to, but it still surprised him to be around even just more than one other person. The whole things was made worse by the fact that he did not know when they might be found, when the Managers might burst through the door and take them all away. He kept going over that night Sansa had told him about in his mind, when her parents and brothers had been killed. It could happen again, any day…and now it was not only he and Sansa he was worried for, but two others as well.

A few times, unexpectedly, his thoughts turned to Lady. Sansa had not mentioned her very much, which he thought was her way of avoiding thinking of her at all. So he did not want to be the one to bring it up. Privately, he thought the dog could very well be dead. Whether _they_ had killed her, or taken her, or she’d gotten lost trying to escape them…but it was not something he wanted to ponder very much.

One day after they’d all eaten lunch together, Theon found himself rather uncomfortably stuck in the kitchen with Jon, helping clean up. He hadn’t been asked to, but Dany and Sansa had both wandered off and he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to follow them or not, so he stayed where he was instead. And now he was here there wasn’t really anything to do but help Jon add their dishes to the sink, that at least might not draw too much attention to himself.

Even then he saw out of the corner of his eye the other man glance sharply over at him, looking sometimes like he wanted to start a conversation. The idea of that made him panic internally a little, so he pretended not to see it.

After a few awkward minutes, relief came in the form of Sansa, reappearing in the doorway. Theon started towards her, but saw very quickly and clearly it was Jon she wanted to speak with. She stood across from him, arms folded.

“I want to see what you’ve done with the upstairs.”

She frowned down at her brother, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Sansa, people live up there, it’s not right to barge in…”

 _“We_ used to live up there, don’t you remember? It’s not like I’m going to break anything, I just want to see how they’re keeping it.”

Jon sighed. “Fine. If you have to. It’s not much though, honestly.”

He scraped back his chair and motioned for Sansa to follow him, and she in turn waved Theon over.

“I want you to stay close,” she told him in an undertone, in response to his questioning look. “No reason. I just feel better if we can see each other.”

Theon could hardly argue with that.

Jon led them down the hall where their shared room was, and up a curved flight of stairs. Another photograph hung on the wall near the bottom, catching Theon’s eye. He stopped for a moment to look at it.

The picture showed two small girls, perhaps about eleven and nine years old. The older-looking one was clearly Sansa; her red hair more distinctive than ever. But she was smiling boldly for the camera in a way that Theon had never seen.

In a stark contrast, the smaller girl in the photo looked as if someone had just cancelled her birthday. Her dark brows only emphasized the intense glare she gave the camera.

“Is this you?” He called up the stairs, to where Sansa had paused. She came down, eyes on the hanging picture. When she saw it her face softened a little.

“Yes. That’s me and Arya.” She laughed softly. “She always hated having her picture taken. You can tell, I assume.”

Theon couldn’t help smiling at the girl’s surly look, especially compared with the overly sunny expression of her sister beside her.

“There was another picture, in the living room…I think it was of all of you.”

Sansa’s face tightened a little. “Yes, it…it probably was. Jon would have kept a lot of our family pictures….I have a few, but I don’ t look at them very often.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I don’t understand how he can have them out like this, how he can _look_ at them all the time, have them all in the open…”

She gave one last glance towards her own young face before turning away, taking his hand. “Come on. Jon’s waiting for us.”

Theon followed her up the stairs to where her brother stood patiently.  His eyes narrowed when they fell on his and Sansa’s joined hands, but he said nothing.

Upstairs did not look much different than downstairs, though a bit emptier. A single carpeted hallway led down the length of the floor, doors leading off from it on either side. It turned a corner near to where Theon stood, ending in another door that was slightly ajar. Through it he could see another set of stairs.

Sansa saw him looking. “That’s the back staircase,” she said. “It’s an _old_ house.”

“One of the oldest in town.” said Jon from ahead of them. “It’s the oldest house on Winterfell Lane, so when we were kids we used to just call it “Winterfell” as a joke, like it was some kind of lord’s manor house or something like that. It’s not quite big enough for that, though.”

To Theon it certainly looked like it could be big enough.

“So where are these people staying?” Sansa asked warily as Jon led them down the hall.

“One of them’s in Mum and Dad’s old room, and the other one’s in my room. Dany and I had to take the guest room downstairs.”

“If they’re only taking up two rooms, why are you being so secretive about it?”

“Well, I let them rent out the whole floor, just to make it simpler.”

He led them into the bedroom at the end of the hall, which like the rest of the upper floor was mostly empty. There was just a bed, a desk, and pair of doors that must have led to a closet. A window looked out over the street in front.

Sansa peered around the room, seemingly looking for signs of misuse. “It seems all right,” she said almost reluctantly. “How long have they been here?”

“Almost three months,” said Jon. “And I’m telling you, they aren’t going to make any trouble. They’re just nice, normal people, it’s not like I’m housing drug dealers or… anything.”

 _Or strange men on the run from the law._ Jon didn’t say it, or even look in Theon’s direction, but he felt the subtle implication all the same.

He wandered away from them to the window, pushing aside the curtain to look out into the street. They kept talking (or arguing, he couldn’t quite tell,) behind him, but he didn’t pay much attention. Sansa’s parents had slept here, wasn’t that right? Though they weren’t talked about much by either sibling, their invisible presence haunted Theon almost as much as Robb’s did. They’d stood at this very window, looking out on that same street…he glanced back at Jon and Sansa and almost did a double take, the image of their parents burned into his mind from the photograph downstairs. He’d forgotten how very much they looked like both of them…it was like being in the constant presence of ghosts he had never met.

“…You’re sure you have enough money to keep the place?” He heard Sansa say, “I’m serious, you need to raise their rents…”

“It’s _fine._ I’m not going to make them pay what they don’t have, don’t be stupid…”

Outside the snow from the past few days had begun to melt slightly, the street was blanketed with alternating half-frozen mounds and icy puddles. A small grey car trundled its way up the road.

“Just don’t tell me that horrible iguana isn’t allowed up here.”

“Well, we _try_ not to let him bother them, but you know, accidents happen…”

Sansa huffed angrily. Theon heard a single dog yipping away in one of the neighboring houses, reminding him painfully of Lady. The car was back, coming back in the other direction. They must have been turning around.

What might this place have been like years ago, when it was full of people? Jon and Sansa, their two living siblings and two dead, both parents…all eight of them filling up the house all the time. Perhaps the reason it seemed so very big was that it was _empty._ If Robb had never been taken, if Sansa’s father had never worked for those people, what would her life have been like?

What would _his_ have been like, if he wasn’t taken either? Where would he be right now? Working at his father’s tackle shop, probably. His sister would have left, if he had been here to help out with the business. So he’d been alone, still stuck in this town with only his father.

Instead he’d been taken away to that lab, and somehow, by some miracle, ended up with Sansa.

Jon appeared at the window, Sansa right behind. “All right,” she said to him. “The other one’s room had better be as neat as this one, go on and show me.”

Jon sighed. “I promise you, it’s completely fine. But all right.”

She turned to Theon. “Ready to go? We can go snoop in someone else’s room.”

Theon gave her a brief smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere. It was still so strange to be in her house, where she had grown up…and yet be in the same place where _he_ grew up, when their childhoods were so vastly different…it was far too surreal.

He was halfway to the door behind Sansa when Jon spoke up from the window, an odd edge to his voice.

“Sansa…come back here a moment.”

Sansa looked merely annoyed, but Theon felt a strange creeping dread at his words. Suddenly he did not want to know what it was Jon was looking at, he didn’t want to know at all.

They went back to the window where Jon stood, frowning. “Come and look at this,” he said. “Why the _hell_ is your creepy ex hanging around outside the house?”

Despite himself, Theon glanced back out the window. With a shock he saw the same car from earlier, now parked right outside the house. And someone was leaning against it, holding what looked like a phone in his hand. He turned his head upwards and immediately Theon felt like someone had driven a bolt of electricity straight through his chest, making him stagger backwards.

It was _him._ The Manager’s son. The one who’d made him kill the animals, who had used the shockers far more often than he needed to, and who had _enjoyed_ doing it…but what had Jon meant by - ?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sansa whiten. “No…no what’s he doing here? I thought – I thought…”

Jon laid a hand on her shoulder. He spoke gently to her, but his face was mutinous. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him, tell him to get out of here…you don’t have to do anything.”

It was then that Theon snapped out of his numbness. “Don’t do it,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Jon, Sansa, don’t go down to him. It’s me he wants.”

Sansa’s face changed sharply from fear to confusion. “What? But you don’t – how do you know him?”

“Because he’s the son of the man who runs the Lab.”

If she had been pale before, she looked like a ghost now. _“What?_ You didn’t say – “

“I didn’t know.”

Jon looked frantically between the two of them. “Right,” he said. “Right. You two stay up here and I’ll just…deal with this.”

“No,” said Sansa, “I’ll come down, I’ll – I’ll talk to him, see what I can do…”

“I don’t want you talking to him…”

Theon spoke up very quietly. “I’ll go. It’s me he wants.”

Sansa and Jon both said “ _No”_ at the same time.

“You’re the one we’re trying to protect,” Sansa snapped. “If you give yourself up, it will all have been for nothing.” She straightened herself, though she still looked pale. “Jon and I will go down. I’ll talk to him if – if I have to. Theon, you stay up here. Just…stay out of sight, all right?”

He nodded numbly, but inside his mind was racing. That man – the one who’d frightened him almost more than the Manager himself – _he_ had been with Sansa? How was it even possible, that someone like him could end up anywhere near someone like her?

While Theon had never known the man’s name, he had a good idea already of which boyfriend he’d been.

Sansa squeezed his arm once more, and before he could offer another word of encouragement she and Jon had hurried from the room, just as a resounding knock sounded on the front door.

It wasn’t until they had left the room that it hit him, and when it did it did so with such a force that he almost fell straight over. Legs suddenly shaking, he lowered himself to the ground. A sound like a sob escaped him and he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, his breath coming sharp and uneven.

He was here. _He_ was here. It was happening again, they’d found him all over again, he couldn’t escape, he would never, ever escape…

As quickly as he had felt the need to sit, now Theon felt he could not spend another minute not moving. He stood up, heart still hammering, and began to pace. They were downstairs…Sansa was talking to him… _Sansa_ and _him…_

What would he do to them? Not just to Sansa – to Dany and Jon as well. With horror he remembered Sansa’s story of her family…of how her parents and two brothers had died trying to protect one. Would this be a repeat of that night, right here, right now? He couldn’t bear it, if any of them were harmed, all because of him…

If he at least heard what they were saying…then he could be able to stop anything that might happen at the door. But when he got to the doorway he froze, so filled with terror he could not take another step.

 _Breathe,_ he told himself, _breathe. For Sansa._

Gripping some part of the wall very tightly so that he did not fall away into the pit that seemed to be opening up around him, he took tiny shuffling steps out into the hallway.

About halfway down he began to hear voices and another surge of fear shot right from his head down to his feet.

 _Keep breathing,_ he thought.

After a fearful, shaky eternity, he reached the bannister. Desperately hoping he would not be seen, he leaned over just enough to see the three familiar figures in the entryway below and ahead.

From his vantage point he could not quite see the new arrival, only a shock of dark hair in the doorway. It was him, there was no mistaking it.

Breathing as slow as he could manage, Theon tuned into their conversation.

“…No reason why you should be here.” That was Jon’s voice, low and menacing. “I thought I told you to stay away from this place?”

While Jon and Dany stood clearly in view of the intruder, Sansa hovered a little behind in the living room. Even from here Theon could see every muscle in her body was tensed.

The man in the doorway shrugged. “I happened to be in town. So I thought I’d pay you all a visit, just as a kindness.”

Upstairs, Theon shuddered. There was no mistaking that horrible voice…

“Nothing you could do could be considered a kindness, Ramsay.” Said Jon.

Of course. The one she’d been terrified of. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

“Just tell us what you want. Talk quickly, and then leave.”

“I don’t want anything from _you,”_ the man – Ramsay – said coldly. “Actually I hoped I could talk to your sister, if she’s around.”

Upstairs, Theon’s hands clenched instinctively around the bannister. He wouldn’t dare, he wouldn’t dare, not now…

Even from where he was he could feel the tension that sprang up in the three downstairs. Sansa herself took a step backward, out of sight.

“What do you want with her?” said Dany. Despite the dislike the two women clearly had for each other, there was a strongly protective note in her voice.

“Just to have a bit of a talk. That’s not against the law, is it?”

“I don’t want you having anything more to do with her,” Jon growled. “You stay away from Sansa and you stay away from this house, are we clear?”

Theon watched in slow motion as Sansa stepped shakily out from behind her brother. If he were braver, if he weren’t so paralyzed up here, he would have gone down right now and pushed her out of the way. He would have given himself up like he’d promised so many times before.

But he did not.

“Jon,” he heard her voice, clear but with a slight tremor. “It’s okay, I’ll do it. It’s fine.”

Theon snuck a glance back down at the entryway and saw her facing the door. Had he not known her well, he would not have seen her fear. But as it was, the tautness in her stance told him all he needed to know. He could not see Ramsay, but was sure he would be smiling horribly like always.

“Sansa,” he heard, “this is nice, isn’t it? Glad to see you’re doing well.”

It was awful, too awful, to hear him talking to her like that. The same man who had hurt him in the Lab, who had made him to such terrible things…to have that same person talking to _Sansa,_ as if nothing was wrong, as if it were normal…

“Why do you want to talk to me? I don’t have anything else I want to say to you, I thought you felt the same way.”

“Well, I thought so too, but I was in the neighborhood and realized there’s something I want to bring up with you. Would you mind, actually, if we went somewhere a little more private?”

This suggestion gained small, but distinctly angry noises from both Jon and Dany. “Whatever you want to say to my sister you’ll say right here, in front of us,” said Jon.

“Jon,” Sansa said sternly. “It’s fine.” Theon heard her deep intake of breath. “You can come in. Where do you want to go?”

The floorboards below creaked and he took a step back from the stairs. “What about up there? I’d rather we not be overheard if that’s all right. It’s a bit personal.”

Up there? As in, up where he was?

“What do you mean personal?” Jon jumped in.

“Well seeing as it’s _personal,_ I’m not likely to tell you, am I?”

Sansa took her brother by the arm. _“It’s fine,_ all right? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Theon heard a clear and pointed undertone of _I know what I’m doing._ For a moment he was proud of her, in spite of his worry, but then he realized – they were coming _upstairs,_ no, no, no, what was he going to do?  What was she thinking? He backed against the wall, freezing up as the pair of footsteps came closer and closer.

If he ran back down the hall to the room Jon had been showing them…no, they would hear him, surely. What other options did he have?

Without thinking about it a second longer, he ducked into the doorway closest to him. There was the second bedroom, smaller than the first one but even sparser in decoration. The only features were a small bed and a pair of closet doors on the far wall.

As quietly and hastily as he could, Theon threw himself across the room and ducked between the doors, shutting himself in the dark. On second thought he kept the door open just a crack, enough to see out of but hopefully not enough for anyone to see in.

Soon he heard footsteps outside, pausing in the landing, and he held his breath.

“…That room at the end of the hall?” That was Ramsay’s voice.

“No,” Sansa said hastily. “Not that one. It’s…there’s someone renting it out. It’s a bit of a mess, that’s all.”

 _She thinks I’m still in there,_ Theon realized with horror. She would do anything to keep him away from that room. But that meant –

“In here’s fine, I think it’s a little cleaner.” Her voice was closer now, he heard the fear a lot clearer. The footsteps came closer and through the crack he saw her shadow against the door. He backed away further into the closet, heart hammering.

Outside, the shadows on the floor shifted. Silently, wincing as the clothes hung behind him rustled slightly, Theon leaned closer to the narrow gap enough to see the two figures. He had to press one eye right to the gap in order to see them both.

Sansa stood taut and uncomfortable, one hand against the wall behind her as if to support herself. Once again he had the urge to burst out, to stand by her.

But she’d told him to hide, hadn’t she? If that man out there recognized him – which he would – and took him away right now…it would all have been for nothing. Still, he felt his stomach twist when he looked at how she stood; guarded, stiff, eyes wide.

This man frightened her. And there was nothing he could to get her away from him.

Ramsay stood looking around the room with dissatisfaction. “The Starks are still rolling in money, I see. Where’s it all coming from now? I thought it was your father who made it all.”

Theon saw a spasm cross Sansa’s face. “Don’t talk about my father,” she said quietly. “Don’t. It’s the least you could do.”

He shrugged. “I should think the least I could do would be to get out of your house, according to your brother. You’ve got quite the support system downstairs, I could tell neither of them were too happy about leaving you alone with a strange man. Why might that be, I wonder?”

“You know why.” Theon could practically feel the anger radiating off her. “You know perfectly well why. It’s for a damn good reason, I should think.”

He had been unable to see Ramsay for a few moments, but now he came back into view, walking up close to her. If he touched her, if he tried anything at all…

His fists clenched tighter the closer he got, but he didn’t touch her. “You’re pretty when you get angry,” was all he said.

Sansa looked like she would have punched him had the circumstances been different. “What do you want?” she said again through gritted teeth. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re just here to have a friendly chat. What do you _want?”_

Ramsay smiled coldly. “I have a request for you. A bargain, of sorts. Would you like to sit?” He gestured to the bed behind them.

Sansa froze, but then gave a curt nod and moved robotically to where he sat. She sat as far away from him as she could.

From inside the closet, Theon could only see their knees and part of their faces off the edge of the bed. He did not dare shuffle over to try and see more clearly.

He heard a chuckle. “Why so nervous? We’re just a pair of old friends, aren’t we? There’s no reason to be afraid of me now, Sansa.”

“I’m not,” she replied in a tiny voice.

“No, not at all. I’ve actually been looking to find you for a while; I stopped by your place a couple days ago to see if I could pay you a visit, but you didn’t seem to be home. Care to tell me why that was?”

A sharp, icy blade seemed to drop straight through Theon’s chest and into his stomach. It was him. _He’d_ been the one that caught up with them at the house, who sent his agents after them. By the way he saw Sansa’s hands twitch, he gathered she had come to the same conclusion.

“You – you came to my house? Why?”

“Well, maybe if you’d let me explain why I’m here now you’d know. You’re always asking a million questions – can’t you just let a person talk?”

Sansa – or rather, the sliver of her that he could see – flinched at his sharp tone. “I’m sorry,” she said very quietly.

“Good. I have a proposal for you, one you’ll want to hear. It’s about my father.”

The blade in Theon’s stomach twisted.

“You…you never told me very much about your father at all.”

Of course he didn’t. He doubted she knew anything about what he did – until now.

“He’s…involved with the law. The police force. I must have told you that at some point.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, you know now. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything, but there’s a dangerous criminal who’s on the run right now, that my father is intent on putting back behind bars. A very dangerous criminal. He was last seen in the town you live in.”

Sansa breathed in sharply. Though Theon could not see her properly, he could tell the wheels in her head must be spinning frantically. It was a lie, surely she saw that.

“His name is Theon Greyjoy and he’s been accused of committing some very serious crimes in the past few years. Thievery, assault with a weapon…this isn’t someone you would have encountered, by any chance?”

A beat. Then – “I’ve never heard of him. You think…you think I have something to do with whatever he’s done?”

Theon let out a shaky sigh of relief. Even when extremely nervous, she was a good liar.

“I would never accuse you of anything, of course. But since he was last spotted near where you live, I thought I would check. Just to make sure he hadn’t done _you_ any harm – we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No, of course not. I…I don’t know anything about him.”

“Well in that case, I was thinking you could help me and my father find him.”

Another long pause, far longer than the last. Theon held a hand firmly over his heart, fearing it was beating so loud they could hear it from outside.

“And why would I have any reason to do that?”

“We could always use an extra hand. And it would be easy – you could pretend to be one of his victims, someone out for vengeance against his crimes. Say he robbed you, took everything you had at knifepoint.  You’re likeable enough, people would believe you and rally behind us. With so many against him, who’s to say we wouldn’t find him in a week?”

Beneath his fear, Theon felt only a deep confusion. Why was he doing this? Was it an attempt to coax the truth out of Sansa, trick her into admitting the fact of their friendship? Or did he really not know if she was lying or not, and in case she wasn’t he had spun a whole story to get her on his side, and help hunt him down? An icy prickle ran down his spine at that thought. Not that it would happen – obviously she _did_ know him, and would do anything she could to make sure he wasn’t found – but it chilled him all the same to think of _her_ in league with _him…_

“I still don’t see why the hell I would want to do that. Pretend to have been victimized by some man I know nothing about, all so you and your father can have the glory of catching him? I’d rather not, thanks. I don’t see what I could possibly get out of that.”

It was clever, her asking questions like that. As much as Theon wished she could just send the man out, make him leave and never come back, this way she could slowly pry into whatever he was intending. She knew far more about the situation than Ramsay thought she did.

“You’d be paid. Possibly. And – “ Theon watched in horror as his hand came into view and reached for her wrist – “I thought maybe we could…get a bit closer throughout the whole thing. Talk things over a bit.”

Sansa wrenched her arm from his grasp and stood up. When her face came into view it was contorted with all the fury she had supressed.

“How _dare_ you! I don’t want to ‘talk things over,’ I don’t want anything to do with you ever again!”

Ramsay had stood too. “Calm down, what’s the matter with you?”

Theon couldn’t see her anymore, she had stepped out of his line of vision, but he heard her well enough. He wondered fleetingly if Jon and Dany could hear the arguing from downstairs.

“What’s the matter? You _abused_ me. You drove me away from my own family for months, and told them all I wanted nothing to do with them. You beat me, you called me – “ she broke off, breaths sounding more like sobs by the minute. Theon felt a sharp pain in his palms and realized he’d been digging his fingernails into them, hands clenched so tightly they shook.

“And now you’ve come back here with some insane story, to use it as some sick way of reconnecting? What’s _wrong_ with you? What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

There was a long pause in which he could Sansa attempting to get her breath back, fighting to keep tears under control. Each ragged breath tore a little hole in his chest, an icy trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck.

Ramsay stepped closer to Sansa, his voice dangerously low.

“Listen to me very carefully. If you truly don’t know anything about this, if you refuse to help – “

“I _don’t_ know anything. And I do refuse to help.”

“But if it turns out you know something about any of this, if I find out you have any contact with the man my father is looking for…things will become very bad, do you understand?”

Sansa shook her head, more in disbelief than negation. “Why would I know anything about this? I don’t know why you think I would – I don’t know why you’d think I had _anything_ to do with any of this…”

“Really? Because I spoke to one of your neighbours when I went to go find you, and they said they saw you walking with a man very similar to my description. Want to tell me about that?”

Silence. In the closet, Theon thought he might pass out.  He clutched at the doorframe, leaning heavily against it. If what he said was true, if someone had really seen them together…

Of course someone had seen them together, how could he have been so stupid? Of course they would have found him, no matter where they went, no matter where they tried to hide… the Lab would always come for them.

 “Maybe I’ve got a friend who looks just like him –“

“Do you?”

Sansa’s voice was ice cold. “It’s none of your business either way. But I’ve never heard the name Theon Greyjoy in my life, and I _definitely_ haven’t met anyone who’s on the run from the law. And even if I had I wouldn’t help you.”

“You wouldn’t, would you? You’re absolutely sure about that?”

She nodded. “I don’t care about what you say, or whatever is supposed to be going on with you – _I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”_

In the pause that came after, Theon considered all the million awful things that could possibly happen. He knew very little of this man, only that he was unpredictable, and clearly Sansa knew the same. Nevertheless, what he did next surprised him even with that in mind, and seemed to do the same to her.

Ramsay did not advance toward her, or leave the room, but sighed and sat back down on the bed.

“I wish you would forgive me,” he said, his voice very different than what it had been. “Sansa, you’re right. It was my fault. All of it. You know how my father is, I’ve told you that at least. It’s not my fault I’ve turned out…the way I am. I know what I can be like.”

From what Theon could see, Sansa had gone still. She didn’t look like he was wholly convincing her, but she didn’t look like she was _un_ convinced either.

“Won’t you just give me one more chance?” he said, looking at her almost pleadingly. “Just one?”

The performance chilled Theon to the bone. If it had been any other man, he might have believed it. But he knew it was all lies, it _had_ to be.

He heard Sansa take a deep breath. When she spoke her voice had turned to ice again.“I did care about you. Once. But I _can’t._ I’ve given you enough chances already. One more and you’ve won. And I promised myself I would never, ever let you win.”

Ramsay stepped out of his sight again, presumably towards her, but her voice was all that stopped him.

“No. We’re not this anymore. We’re not _anything_ anymore. I don’t care what any of this is about, I want you to leave. I’m not helping you. Leave.”

He did not move. Theon held his breath; he had been holding it for a very long time.

“Sansa, you do know what will happen if I find out you have anything to do with this criminal, don’t you? You’ve played the innocent role very well but if it turns out you lied, if it turns out you have been hiding this man, or in contact with him…it’s not only you who will be in trouble.”

From the sliver of what Theon could see, she had taken a step back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I still remember what you told me about your brother, all that time ago. Tell no one else, you said, it’s a family secret.”

Her brother? What secret? What was he - ?

“He’s awfully well liked now, isn’t he? Off making movies in the big city with an actress girlfriend…I’d be surprised if he wasn’t quite popular in the next few years.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sansa said through clenched teeth.

“Well, that little secret you so kindly gave to me might just put a bit of a stain on his reputation, wouldn’t it? Would you like that to happen, Sansa?”

Sansa did not move. Her voice went icy again.

“Are you threatening my family?”

“Only if I find out you lied to me.”

“How many times can I say it? I don’t know who that man is, I’ve never seen him, and I’m not helping you find him under any circumstances. Now, _get out of my house.”_

“Oh, it’s your house now, is it? I was under the impression it was your brother’s…and his lovely girlfriend of course.”

There was a quick movement outside the doors, and Theon saw Ramsay stagger backwards, cursing under his breath. By the dull thud that came after, he concluded that Sansa had thrown something in his direction.

“Get out! I never, _never_ want to see you again – how _dare_ you threaten my brother? _Get out!”_

He scrambled to his feet. “Bitch,” he muttered, “I came in here trying to be civil, and you just –“

_“Get out!”_

With one more angry glance around the room, he stalked out the door. Sansa did not follow him.

Theon heard heavy footsteps down the stairs followed by a few sharp, angry words and a door slamming shut. Sansa let out a kind of whimper and slumped onto the bed, head in her hands. Even just through the narrow crack he could see she was trembling. It frightened him, to see her lose control like that. Even though her anger, her fear, was not directed at him, it gave him a cold, sick feeling just witnessing it. She was always the one who held together better.

Now that Ramsay was gone, he thought some of the tension would have leached out of the room just a little, but it did not. His presence still hung in a black cloud. Theon realized though, that he did not need to be quiet any longer. His need to go to Sansa, to help her, won out and he slowly pried the closet door open.

On the bed she startled, head coming up from her hands in an instant. When she saw it was him her face changed quickly to confusion, and then – surprisingly – to guilt.

“What are you doing here? I thought – I thought you were at the end of the hall?”

A deep shame crept up into his chest. He shouldn’t have listened, what had gone on in this room was private…

“I – I was. I came out to try and hear what was going on, and by the time you started coming back upstairs it would have been too late to run back, he would have heard me…so I just hid in here. I thought you’d go somewhere else, I didn’t think…”

Sansa was shaking her head, eyes round. “I thought you were in the other room, that’s why I was leading him away. He could have found you.”

“I know. I know, it was stupid. I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have heard all that. I didn’t want to.”

She hung her head, face going pink. “I wish you hadn’t,” she said quietly. “I wish you hadn’t seen how _I_ was…when I was with him…” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Theon crept slowly towards her. His insides were still all twisted into knots from his overhearing the encounter, the last thing he wanted to do was ask her about it. But he had to. It couldn’t _not_ be spoken about. Cautiously, he sat by her on the bed.

“You’re afraid of him,” he said.

Sansa sniffed, pushing the hair out of her eyes. There was a tightness in her face he had never seen before, as if every bone and muscle sat taut beneath her skin.

“I hate him. I hate everything about him. But somehow – I don’t know how, now – at some point I did love him. Or care for him, at least. I don’t understand how I could have liked a _monster_ like that…”

She looked at him almost desperately. “You don’t understand. He gets in your head, he’s just _like_ that; one minute I would swear I was leaving him and never coming back, and the next he’d have convinced me to stay again. And I didn’t even feel bad about it, until the end. He would really, really _convince_ me, convince me he was all right, that he was sorry, that he’d make it up to me. And then he’d treat me just fine for a week or so…before it happened all over again.”

A twisted part of Theon wanted to know _what_ it was that had happened, but most of him never wanted to know, ever, and more so wanted her never to have to tell him.

More so he wanted to know what in the world that comment about Jon had been referring to, though he thought that was probably best left for another time.

She made no move to touch him or speak to him, but sat closed off and tight, hands gripping her knees. Theon could not sit still, something was creeping beneath his skin, some heated discomfort that made it difficult not to move. As gently as he could, he laid a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. To his surprise, she flinched.

“You knew him, didn’t you?” she blurted out. “You said you met him. What was he - ?”

“Horrible,” Theon said shortly. “Worse than any of the others. He was the one who always made me kill the birds.”

He remembered all too clearly the eyes, the terrible, terrible smile he wore whenever he knew he was causing someone pain. Those eyes had looked at _Sansa,_ had mocked her pain in the same way…

Rage. That was what crept inside him now. He was shaking with it.

“What did he do to you?” he said, unable to stop himself. “Did he – you said he hit you?”

She ducked her head, hair falling in her face again. “Yes,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“And what…what else did he do?”

She didn’t answer. Another flame of bitter anger rose up inside him. “Sansa – “

“It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.”

Except it _did_ matter. All of it mattered.

Sansa buried her face in her hands. Her voice came through, muffled. “I can’t. I just can’t, not now. Please – I’m sorry – I just really want to be alone right now.”

Slightly stung, but worried more than anything, Theon took his hand away from her shoulder. “Okay. Okay…are you sure? Do you want Jon, or – ?”

“No. Nobody. Just…I want to be alone. Just for a minute.”

He nodded, though she couldn’t see him from inside her arms. Still in shock, still trembling with anger, he stood and pushed himself onward to the door.

 _Coward,_ he thought. _Go back to her. Don’t leave her alone._

Wasn’t that what she wanted? Which would upset her more – if he listened to her and left her all alone or if he didn’t do as she said? He paused halfway to the door before moving onward, certain he was doing the wrong thing, that she’d hate him for it. Confused, angry tears hung behind his eyes but he did not let them fall.

He went on. He had learned to do as others said long ago.


End file.
